


The perfect mission

by apolitecactus



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Parental Roy Mustang, Past Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 79,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolitecactus/pseuds/apolitecactus
Summary: In his three years working for the Amestrian military, Edward Elric was never sent on a mission where he’d have to fight on the frontlines or kill someone. The reason for this was simple. Roy Mustang volunteered for all these missions instead of Edward. Roy never admitted to actual reasons why he’d take so many missions instead of his subordinate. Most of the times, he just boasted about how these missions could help him to earn the next promotion or relieve him of paperwork for a few days or give more reasons to tease Ed about. He never admitted that he cared about Ed, even though every single one of these missions was more dangerous than the ones Ed was assigned to. This time, the mission was beyond dangerous – no one expected Roy to survive after finishing it. Even more so, as the soldiers whom Roy was supposed to help, despised alchemy after seeing Kimblee in action in Ishval.What will Roy’s subordinates do to save him? What Ed is going to do once he learns about the sacrifices his commander is ready to do for him?Roy-centric; very little / almost no romance; no sexual content; rating mostly for swearwords and canon-typical violence; child abuse implied in 1 paragraph only without details
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 69
Kudos: 188





	1. The assignment

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note: This fic is mostly Roy-centered. There are multiple OC characters which serve various plot purposes because I needed Roy to be without his team for a while. The full Mustang team appears only in Chapter 4, and I expect Ed to appear only in Chapters 8-9.
> 
> Another note: I think I mistagged this fic initially because I didn't really know what the whole M/M and F/M tags were for. The fanfic includes very little or almost no actual romance, so that's why I'm re-tagging it as Gen now.
> 
> Honestly, I don't really know how this fanfic came about. Guess the lockdown opened some new ways to pass the time for me. I wanted to start writing stories for a long time now but then I realized that I don't know anything about the actual writing or writing techniques so I figured I will use this platform to develop my skills. Another important note: I am not a Native English speaker. If you feel that there are just too many grammar mistakes or silly sounding sentences, please let me know.  
> Oh and this happens in manga-verse after the whole ordeal in Youswell (the mining town at the beginning of the series). I also decided to exercise a little bit of creative freedom and in this verse, Kimblee killed a lot of soldiers when he went crazy. Not that I don't believe that this is exactly what happened but the whole extent of Kimblee's killing spray wasn't showed in the manga.  
> I expect to update this once a week  
> 

“We specifically asked for an earth alchemist. As far as I know, flame and earth don’t have anything in common,” Major General Rawls uttered in discontent at the man in front of him. The General never liked alchemists, and this specific alchemist gave him every reason to dislike him. If anything, this man would take the second place in his personal list of alchemists he disliked the most – the first being occupied by Kimblee, of course. General sighed and reminded himself not to mistreat every alchemist because of what Kimblee did. Even if this specific alchemist seemed to have been in Ishval, and then got promoted to colonel nonetheless – and oh God – at such a young age. Who knew what he did in Ishval.

The man in front at him didn’t look even remotely bothered ( _of course he wouldn’t be – he went to Ishval and returned with a promotion when so many others were unable to carry on_ – _like his men after Kimblee went completely off the rails – oh God)._

“Well, I am a _State Alchemist_ ,” Mustang enunciated the last two words like he pronounced his rank just a minute earlier – with a sense of importance to it. _“_ And I received training in all kinds of basic alchemy. I can assure you that I am the best you can get for this assignment – whatever it is – in the whole Eastern region.”

“Forgive me, _Colonel,”_ Rawls almost spat out the last word. “But I have obtained different information. There is another alchemist in the Eastern command, and, judging from his file, he showed himself quite well-versed in the earth alchemy. In fact, he was the one who was ordered to report to the Southern command, not _you_.” Rawls liked to be direct with his subordinates. Frankly, he was direct and straightforward about dealing with everything in his life – words, wars, his soldiers, his family. If he could, he’d tell Colonel Mustang everything – that he couldn’t bear having any alchemists in his command – to be fair, after what went down with Kimblee, no one ever questioned him about that; that he knew that there very few – almost zero – tasks which couldn’t be ever completed without an alchemist’s help, and this day, he and his men were unlucky enough to have a task where survival hinged upon help of an alchemist. He didn’t tell either that he went through the list of all state alchemists to specifically find an only combatant earth alchemist who hadn’t been to Ishval. He also didn’t tell Mustang how much he despised the fact that the said alchemist apparently never got the order to appear in the Southern command after the post office in his current city was ordered by some high-ranking military officer to shut down the day when the letter with the order was supposed to come through – and instead, he got this _flame_ alchemist who was – _oh God_ – promoted two ranks after Ishval and hailed as a hero at only 29 years old – for God only knew what he did there.

“Fullmetal Alchemist is on assignment and unavailable right now. And besides,” the man in front of him smirked. “Believe me, you don’t really want Fullmetal doing any job for you. Unless, of course, the job is to destroy a town or two.”

“Leave it to _me_ to decide whether Fullmetal is suitable for this task,” Rawls told sternly. “Yes, I’ve heard about Fullmetal's research, and as far as I know, saving a hospital trapped at the front line is a far more important assignment than researching a book about – what was it – microbiology of plant cells? Let alone researching this book in a town where apparently all post offices had to shut down because of fire safety inspection and all phone operators cannot locate a state alchemist even if it is a matter of life or death.”

The man in front of him smirked again. God, he was so annoying, so smug, so proud and pretentious, that General Rawls was almost happy to give him this assignment. The military will lose absolutely nothing after he is done with this task; the only issue was whether he was fit for the job and whether he was about to lose it like Kimblee did.

“We in the Eastern command take it absolutely seriously to watch after the fire safety in our towns.” Suddenly, the look on the colonel’s face became firm and the smirk disappeared. “I am the only alchemist you have right now, General Rawls, and if there is a _hospital_ trapped at the front line, we should start discussing the assignment as soon as possible, shouldn’t we?”

\- /

In fact, however, there wasn’t any hurry to discuss the assignment until the next day. It was raining mercilessly at the border with Aerugo, and the only path to the hospital was currently occupied by the latest evacuation mission. The path will be clear tomorrow, and only then they will have a chance to sneak a little rescue mission uphill to the Fostet hospital.

Roy looked over the maps and assignment files again and couldn’t help but feel emotions tightening in his chest. There were a lot of signs pointing at the nature of this assignment. For one, he was not allowed to take his adjutant with him (not that he was unhappy about it, if anything, he’d be glad to leave Riza as far away from the Southern border as possible). He was also supposed to travel with a convoy, and some signs in the document and General’s words hinted that he will be shot dead if he was ever to leave the assignment before it’s finished. Not that Roy ever would. There were no other ways to save the frontline hospital which was suddenly cut off from the rest of the Amestrian forces because of a blitzkrieg operation by Aerugians.

After the territorial advances by Aerugians in the last few days, the only safe route to the hospital was a narrow mountain path which would only fit two persons at the time. The only hope was that the platoon currently stationed at the hospital will be able to stall off Aerugian advancement long enough to save as many patients as possible. As it was, however, the platoon was severely understaffed for both halting off Aerugians and helping the doctors and nurses to evacuate patients. To make matters worse, there was no option to bring additional forces to the hospital, as any soldiers left at the hospital will be captured by Aerugians when without a doubt, they will seize the hospital. Bringing a state alchemist and a human weapon at that solved many problems and could potentially help the platoon defend the hospital a little longer. This meant that more patients could be saved but anyone left at the hospital when Aerugians finally succeed at capturing it, will be either imprisoned or killed. Most likely, killed. Roy as a colonel had access to the contingency plans for after the task will be over and most of them included awarding the soldiers the Award of Honor and a 4-rank promotion posthumously. This was a suicide mission, and no one was even trying to hide this fact.

“How nice of them,” Roy thought dryly. “If the hell has a contest for who has the most stripes on their uniform, I will appreciate this gesture.”

Roy carefully closed all files about the mission and looked up at the General.

“Why would Aeruginians want this hospital so badly anyway?” Roy knew the answer but said it just to fill the silence in the office.

“Well, they don’t need the hospital itself of course but it is located on a hilltop and there is access to clear water and local farms. All you’d need to station your forces.” Roy liked that the General gave him a direct answer. General Hakuro would laugh about Roy’s stupidity to ask such an obvious question, and General Grumman would tell him off for stalling and not having a strategy for the whole conversation ready in his mind.

Maybe to some extent, this assignment was perfect for Roy. After what he did in Ishval, to have a chance to die protecting his fellow citizens, in a just war, defending hospital patients against an offensive from another country, was the best way to die there could be. Yes, he wanted to change his country and he had enormous plans for the future but if fate gave him this perfect opportunity to protect so many people, he had to take it and make sure that he did everything in his power to see as many people rescued as possible. He would never be able to atone for what he did in Ishval but at least he would be able to put his life to a good use.

Roy also knew that this assignment would leave his own men without protection. Even though the General hated alchemists, he felt uneasy about sending one to death. Roy had to use this opportunity to make sure that everyone under his command was protected.

“I see what the mission is about, General,” Roy said and paused. He wanted his next words to sound as important as they were to him. “Considering the specific… uhm… nature of this mission, I would ask you not to send Fullmetal alchemist there in any circumstances.”

General smiled.

“You in the Eastern command seem to be too fond of this Fullmetal guy. I’ve heard from other generals that it’s impossible to get him on a battlefield and his superior officer declines any missions involving combat. Yet this guy seems perfectly capable of engaging in a fight, as my sources tell. Not even to mention what he left of this mining town in the East,” The general pronounced the next words with contempt. “ _A democracy,_ forgive me for this word! If you in the Eastern command wouldn’t cuddle him like he is made of glass, I am sure that he’d bring much more benefits to the frontline soldiers than he does now, destroying towns and making sure miners can self-govern.”

Roy sighed. Everyone knew General’s views on democracy, and of course the General couldn’t let it go that one small town in the East has a sort of self-governance now. He made himself a note not to discuss politics with the General ever again in the future and then the little tight ball of emotions inside his chest grew even tighter at the thought that he didn’t need to make these notes for his future anymore.

“Well, Fullmetal won’t arrive for at least another week. You don’t expect the platoon to hold off the offensive this long, and if Fullmetal finally arrives, you won’t really need him,” Roy smirked. “And, frankly, you’d never want this little brat anywhere near your assignment or you. I know what I’m talking about, he is unbearable. Unless, of course, your next mission requires child soldiers like this one requires alchemists,” Roy finished sternly.

“Child soldier? Colonel, what do you mean by that?” The look on the general’s face changed to a look of slight confusion.

“That he is a child,” Roy shrugged. “He is 15 though he looks like a 12-year-old and behaves like he’s 5.”

“I didn’t realize that,” General said with a look of discomfort on his face. “How could it be possible? I was hearing about his _democracy_ -building exercises for years. How old was he when he joined the military? Do we recruit soldiers from kindergartens now?” General paused. “Of course, I wouldn’t ever send a child on the battlefield, assuming you are telling me the truth, and it’s not just another attempt of the Eastern command to keep their most precious alchemist to themselves,” Roy wanted to interrupt, but the General didn’t stop. “Then it’s decided. You will leave tomorrow, and I sincerely wish you all the luck you can have. You know I don’t like alchemists, but it doesn’t stop me from praying for the life of my fellow soldier,” he finished firmly.

It looked like the meeting was about to end but Roy had another important matter to discuss.

“Sir, if you allow me, I have another request for you. My adjutant will be unhappy about not being allowed to join me on this mission.”

“This is not even a matter of discussion. You are going with _my_ convoy. And God forgives you if you ever try to flee. I ordered them to shoot immediately if they have even a slightest doubt about your intentions.”

“I know, I know – I am not trying to flee, quite the opposite actually. My adjutant proved to have had… uhm… missteps in judgements when it comes to her being unable to fulfil her duty. Can you please ensure that she stays in the Southern Command even after she learns about the nature of this mission?” Roy looked at the General hopefully. There was no way he could allow this assignment to claim both him and Riza. There was even a chance that she could carry on towards their dream once he was not there for her to constantly worry about and chide for his laziness. An alternative for keeping Riza from following him was to honestly ask her to stay (he was sure it wouldn’t work even in the slightest) or ask Maes to come to the Southern command to keep an eye on Riza, and the latter option would probably end up in both Riza and Maes doing something stupid in the name of saving him.

“Why don’t you just order her to stay put? Or do soldiers in the Eastern command enjoy living in the democracy as well?”

“I just wanted to make sure that in case there is any lapse in judgement from her side once the nature of this mission is well-known, she won’t have an opportunity to disobey my direct order, that’s it. I don’t really want my general dealing with losing both me and the second-ranking officer in my team because you’ll have to court-martial her.”

“So what should I do, put her in prison to make sure she doesn’t disobey your order? We don’t cuddle officers like you seem to do with all your subordinates, Colonel”.

“You can do that,” Roy smiled. Oh, Riza will hate him so much for this, she may even not stress out about his death. At least Roy wished that this would happen. “It’s just a request from me, as a soldier to soldier”. Roy wanted to convey how important it was for him to have this request fulfilled but he knew that the General understood and knowing him, he’d do everything in his power to help a soldier he sent to his death.

“I will see what can be done”.

The meeting ended in a few minutes. They discussed a few logistic details and after another assurance from the General that he will pray for Roy (Roy made a mental note not to discuss religion with the general either ever again and then cheerfully noted that he didn’t have to worry anymore), the meeting ended.

Roy took all the maps with him and reminded himself that he had to make a few adjustments to his will before the next day and maybe even tell Riza about his feelings. Or not. This will only make everything more complicated and she’ll probably figure out what the mission is about just from this confession alone. He wanted to do it so badly but for the sake of her own life, he had to behave as if the mission wasn’t anything special. Roy also reminded himself to check out a few of his notes on earth alchemy. This task will hinge on his rusty earth alchemy skills. Not that he was actually bad at it, but he didn’t use it as much as his flame alchemy.

Roy went back to his barracks and darkly thought that this was probably the last chance he was going to get to sleep in such comfortable conditions.

-/

“Oh God, the Eastern command is in disarray. A complete mess. It’s a miracle, Amestris isn’t occupied by Xing now. Probably, the desert between Amestris and Xing is an only thing protecting Amestris from the invasion right now.”

This much was clear to General Rawls after the meeting with Mustang. It seemed like no one at the Eastern command wanted to follow orders. First, even if this Fullmetal alchemist was just a child soldier (General had a hard time believing this anyway and the “Age” line in his file still looked like a well-placed typo to him – probably just a wealthy kid who wanted to get all perks of being a State Alchemist without any pitfalls of having to actually fight for your country), the efforts to avoid Fullmetal following his direct orders were enormous. Then this Roy Mustang colonel showed up without any invitation and absolutely begged him to give him the job. Strangely, he didn’t even try to back off from doing this assignment and didn’t discuss whether there were any alternative solutions available once the nature of the mission became clear. Considering the guy had been to Ishval and survived after doing who knows what there – _oh God the only officers who earned a promotion after Ishval were absolute monsters – how could he ever allow him go near his soldiers_ – General decided to ask Oliver to keep an eye (or better a gun) at him all the time. Then, there was this adjutant who apparently forgave everything in the world once she was asked to stay behind. Colonel went as far as admitting that detaining her may be necessary to just force her to follow orders. And those three were 100% of soldiers from the Eastern command General Rawls had a chance to ever deal with.

“Maybe I will even have to pray for the Eastern command to become less of a mess,” the General thought grimly.

Even if he didn’t like Mustang or all quirky ways in which absolutely everyone in the Eastern command seemed to avoid following orders or the fact that Mustang was an alchemist who went to Ishval _– and oh God how did he use flame alchemy there_ – General couldn’t help but feel uneasiness about sending a soldier to his sure death. A young soldier. Probably with a girlfriend waiting for him back in the East and a bunch of drink buddies who’d go to the pub with him on Fridays. A soldier who seemed to weirdly care about his subordinates.

“Funny how I started considering asking a general to imprison your adjutant a form of care for someone,” the General thought, his feelings even grimmer now.

He couldn’t help but the fact that Mustang seemed to care for at least someone gave him a little thread of hope. Maybe, everything will not be as bad and maybe this guy was not be as bad as Kimblee was – _oh God thanks God there won’t be another Kimblee ever thanks God Kimblee got his punishment a long time ago_ – maybe he was not sending his soldiers a human weapon who would go after his own countrymen once he feels too bored about dealing with the enemy.

The general opened an enormous book in front of him, lit the candles, and started praying for his soldiers.


	2. The path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, there is the second chapter.  
> I have a headcanon that Roy calls Edward "Ed" or "Edward" instead of Fullmetal in his head.  
> And there is some drama and angst in this chapter - I also had to up the rating a little bit because of language, just to be sure.  
> And, importantly, there are new warnings: suicidal thoughts and past violence.  
> And also the recurring warning that I am not a Native English speaker and there could be a lot of silly sentences (though I hope that there are not so many).  
> In the next chapter, we will see some more action and more Team Mustang - you should expect the second chapter in a week.

Ch 2

Preparations to the mission went relatively smoothly.

Roy had a chance to look through his old alchemy notes. Apparently, his code name for earth alchemy was Esmeralda. Well, he was a dramatic teen, and Maes would have a field day with this revelation: “What was your name for the water alchemy then? Ophelia? Juliette? Fantine? Cosette?” Roy could almost hear his best friend joking. He didn’t feel too uncomfortable about having to use so much earth alchemy on this mission though. He was good at all types of basic alchemy before finally finding something of his own. There wasn’t anything too difficult about manipulating earth. The only issue was that it was more exhausting than flame alchemy which meant that he had to get more rest between sessions of using it if he were to help the platoon as much as they expected him to help. The job itself wasn’t too difficult either – he only had to build walls around the hospital to stall off the advances of Aerugunians and give the platoon a little bit time for the rest and organizing the defence lines. This was something he could do and for once, Roy was extremely happy to be of use on the battlefield without having to burn people to ashes. Even if going to this mission meant that he had to die.

“I am sorry, Colonel but I am afraid that not accompanying you on this mission means that I would be unable to fulfil my duty. I would like you to revise your decision, _Sir._ ” Even if Riza used the politest tone there was ever possible, he couldn’t help but feel the stern order behind these words. Don’t leave me behind or I will shoot you. Don’t leave me behind or it’ll break my heart.

_Come on, Riza, you can survive this._

_You are the strongest woman I ever met._

_The most beautiful and strong woman to ever exist._

_You can survive this, Riza._

Why didn’t he have at least a tiny opportunity to confess his feelings to her? To be with her one last time? Was it too much to ask? Was there an alternative universe somewhere where he had this little tiny – Edward-sized – opportunity to be honest with her and stay with her one last time?

“The order comes from the General himself. You know how much he hates state alchemists. I mean Kimblee went crazy and killed some of his soldiers because they made beautiful explosions. I am not surprised that he doesn’t trust me to go on this mission with my own adjutant,” it occurred to Roy that Riza was unaware about the confusion with Ed’s age. “They wanted Fullmetal for this mission anyway. Do you think General Rawls would ever send a child to do something dangerous? They probably want me to build something,” at least, Roy wasn’t too far off about this. Roy smirked. “Do you think I will have to build everything in Ed’s style? With horns and stuff?” The idea seemed so ridiculous and appealing at the same time that he actually wanted to try.

He could see that some of Riza’s uneasiness about the mission was receding.

“By the way, I learned more about General’s religion – this frucionism thing – when we were on the train,” Roy continued blabbing because he didn’t want to give Riza even a tiny chance to think about the mission. Like why he would go to such lengths to avoid Ed doing this mission. He knew that she'll eventually ask the right questions and come to the right conclusions, but he wanted this to happen as late as possible. “Did you know that they literally worship fire?”

Riza rolled her eyes because she knew where this conversation was heading.

Roy created a little fire ball.

“Is there a chance that he’ll think that I am a prophet or messiah?” The fire ball in Roy’s hands started looking like a tiny dragon. “Holy ruler of all fire. Or the Sacred General of Dragons. Or….”

“Stop this, Sir. Most of the soldiers in the South follow the same religion. They can hear us,” Riza said with a tired look on her face. Good, she will have more time to think about his antics and less about this assignment.

Roy made the fire ball disappear with a look of a child who lost his favourite toy. It was time for him to go back to his barracks and never see her again.

“See you in a week, then? Or maybe earlier if I persuade Southern soldiers to follow me as a prophet,” Roy said with a massive grin on his face, arms spread victoriously.

When she left, he walked to a column next to him and stood there, looking at her, his heart speeding and the fear of what was going to happen in the next days absorbing him.

_Come on, Roy, you can do this._

_Come on, Riza, you can survive this._

“At least, no more paperwork for the rest of my life,” he thought in an attempt to cheer himself. His panic did not want to recede even in the slightest.

-/

The next morning greeted him and the Lieutenant Oliver Savante-Smith with the best possible weather Roy could imagine. Sun, no clouds, and, importantly, not even a hint that it was going to rain again. This felt like one of the many school trips he used to have when he was a teen – mountain range, narrow path where only two people can fit, and a watchful eye of someone who was responsible for his safety. Roy looked up at the tall figure in front of him – massive build, two elegant automail arms (Roy was sure that these were concealing some weapons because the Lieutenant didn’t seem to have a gun), and a large black backpack with the ammunition for the soldiers in the hospital. Roy fashioned the same heavy backpack with ammunition and medicine needed for the patients trapped in the hospital but unlike the Lieutenant, carrying the heavy backpack through the narrow mountain path seemed like a difficult task for Roy. It was only an hour since they started their ascend and Roy already felt a little bit out of breath. Years of working a desk job – however many field assignments and trips to gym he had – seemed to have a negative effect on him. The Lieutenant didn’t seem to be a big fan of Roy in the first place, but he was becoming even more annoyed at Roy’s inability to at least keep up with him.

This all was pathetic.

Roy wanted to do something heroic, yet he couldn’t manage a simple excursion through the mountains. That he couldn’t sleep the day before because he felt worried – _come on, Roy, be honest with yourself_ \- pathetically panicked to be honest – wasn’t a good enough excuse. Oliver seemed to be doing well considering he was also sent on this suicide mission.

“I know what you’re doing,” the Lieutenant said with a hint of disgust slipping in his tone. “Are you trying to stall me to find a way to run away or something? It’s clear as a day that _you_ wouldn’t want to risk anything to save a bunch of lowly people.”

The disgust in Lieutenant’s voice was off-putting for Roy. He was trying – he really was doing his best; it wasn't his fault he had never been running in the mountains with a heavy backpack before. This wasn't the reason to accuse him of not giving a damn. He was there, after all.

“It’s not the tone you should use when speaking with your superior officer, Lieutenant,” Roy said harshly. Though he still wanted to salvage his image in the eyes of the Lieutenant. “I am not really used to this,” he gestured around and at his backpack with a smile. “I want to get there as much as you do, Lieutenant. I know that I can help, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Yeah, you can keep your fancy words for someone else, alright? I know you probably want to see the most beautiful fire or maybe how many people you can burn at once. I saw your file, Colonel, and I don’t see any reason to use a different tone with you,” the Lieutenant almost spat at him.

Roy stalled, suppressing a sudden urge to hide away and drink until he didn’t feel so much guilt at once. He deserved this and even more. Especially now when he decided to abandon all dreams he and Riza and Maes were working so much for. Dreams which will help to make sure that Ishval will not happen again.

“I know you don’t like this,” Roy gestured at both of them. “But we have to at least pretend to be professional until this is over. I know you have all the reasons not to trust me, but I am sincerely trying to help.”

Lieutenant looked at him with even more disgust and disbelief in his gaze and wordlessly went further. Now he didn’t even try to keep up with Roy, forcing him to go even faster.

-/

It took another two hours for Roy to feel completely out of breath.

Damn his city upbringing. _Of course, Roy, what could have happened if you spent your entire youth reading alchemy books instead of running around mountains like Oliver there seemed to have. Or what bad could have happened if his physical exam scores for the military academy were just slightly above the bare minimum – he could go around using alchemy instead, right? Oh yes, his life was just a collection of small and big mistakes, one of top of another. Was there anything he could do right?_

The Lieutenant realized that Roy was not able to go further. Begrudgingly, he agreed to take a break.

“You are not my superior officer here, either,” the Lieutenant said finally after they didn’t exchange a single word for two hours before that. “I am in charge of your security detail so for now you are under my command. If I wanted you to do sit-ups for hours,” Lieutenant smiled but there was a threat in his voice. “Then I can make you do this. I mean, you need to be in a better shape – for… uhm… your security.”

The Lieutenant seemed to find this amusing, but Roy didn’t. The whole ordeal with climbing the mountain at jogging speed was humiliating. And his own security convoy probably would have no problem with failing to do his mission of keeping him secure.

“How nice of you, to care so much about my security, Lieutenant. I truly appreciate this. I just don’t know what I would have done without your overwhelming support,” Roy said, sarcasm sinking into his every word now. It was apparent that his image in Oliver’s eyes was beyond repair now – not that it mattered anyway, as he only needed to deal with this for a week, and then he wouldn’t need to care about his public image ever again.

Roy lied down on the floor of a little cave they had their break in, deciding to use every minute of this break for the rest rather than having the constant argument with the Lieutenant.

But the Lieutenant seemed to visibly flinch at his words. His gaze became unreadable, automail hands curled in fists.

“You are just like _him_ ,” he said. Roy could feel despair in his voice.

“You are a sarcastic moron just like _Kimblee_. Oh God, and I am bringing _you_ to _a hospital_ ,” now, Lieutenant sounded almost panicked.

The Lieutenant took two steps back from Roy, looking at him with an ever-growing fear and despair.

“To think that someone like _you_ can help us. To stop all the rescue missions for 6 hours just for _you_ to get there and kill us. Why else would you volunteer for this mission? How could I let this happen?”

Roy sat up, looking at the Lieutenant with concern. _What the hell he was talking about?_

“I cannot let you go anywhere near the hospital,” Lieutenant said, now sounding firm, like he took a decision.

Suddenly, there was a barrel of a gun aimed at Roy’s forehead. It was true, then, the Lieutenant had a gun in his automail, Roy thought absentmindedly.

“What do you think you are doing?” Roy asked, voice stern and his posture suddenly collected. The Lieutenant was obviously feared out of his mind. Damned Kimblee made all these soldiers so distrusting of alchemists that they felt better off killing one than accepting an alchemist's help.

“Lieutenant, I am here to help. Put the gun down,” Roy continued, trying to get to his gloves or his gun – anything.

“Stop moving, hands up. I will kill you like the pig you are,” Lieutenant didn’t seem to even hesitate now. “I’ve seen what _you people_ are capable of in Ishval. Hell, Kimblee was killing our soldiers for months and even the General couldn’t do anything about him. They only court-martialled him when he killed some higher-up fuck-ups. You probably just didn’t make the mistake of killing a general or two, did you?” the Lieutenant continued, the gun now firmly on Roy’s forehead.

This was getting increasingly dangerous and he didn’t even start the mission yet. _Oh, his damned luck._

“Lieutenant, you said that you stopped all evacuation missions just so I could get there. What good will it bring if you kill me now?” Roy needed to calm him down, he needed to complete this mission and then die, not the other way around.

“Whatever, I haven’t seen any alchemists doing anything good for people. Just say your last words, and it’ll be over,” Lieutenant continued but he didn’t even give a chance to Roy to say anything. “You know why I have two automail hands? Well, Kimblee wanted a beautiful explosion. It didn’t matter to him that I was there inside of his beautiful shape. Damn it, it was a hectogon. And you know what he said when I was lying there, crying of pain? He just cursed me for damaging his beautiful shape with my blood,” the gun started trembling, the Lieutenant clearly in pain because of what he remembered. “I cannot let you near the hospital. I cannot let this happen again. Even if you are not the same – I just don’t want to take any chances.”

Damn, there was no way for Roy to do anything. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t get to his gloves or gun and with his hands in the air, there was no way for him to draw an alchemy circle. They were alone in the middle of the mountains and whatever happens, there won't even be any witnesses to what the Lieutenant was about to do. No medical assistance and his team not by his side, nor trying to save him. The only remaining option was to try to persuade the Lieutenant to change his mind in any way possible.

 _Was this going to be his end?_  
To some extent, it was a fitting end – being killed in the broad daylight, uselessly, just because he stood by and let all these things happen in Ishval. Not only stood by but actively participated in genocide.

_Yes, this was what he deserved._

But he couldn’t let it happen because the hospital needed him. And because the only another alchemist to be put on this mission after him was going to be Edward – whatever the general promised him. And he needed to protect his subordinates. He needed to protect Edward. He needed to survive now even if pleading for life was humiliating and he didn’t deserve to survive.

“I swear, I am not like Kimblee. Please, give me a chance.”

“I like your pleading, maybe these are going to be your last words, huh?” the Lieutenant asked, clearly enjoying this.

“Just give me a chance, alright? You can kill me anytime anyway. Please, if you are going to kill me now, they will just send another alchemist, and there will be less survivors in the hospital. You have to trust me just a little bit,” Roy hated all of this but what else could he do?

“So maybe the next alchemist will be not like Kimblee or not the one who served in Ishval, what do you think?”

The Lieutenant didn't seem to be even remotely bothered by his pleading. He hated alchemists too much to think straight. Roy felt the panic rising in his chest. Was this how it was going to end?

_Think. Think. What else can you do? You just need to show him that you are not a complete monster. You can do this._

“They are going to send a child after me. I cannot let you kill me so that there will be a child doing my job. Please, let me finish this mission. Please, I need to do this,” Edward will hate him for alluding so often to his age. He’ll probably find him in his afterlife and kill him as many times as he can for doing this mission in the first place. But this was true at the same time – he couldn’t get killed in such a stupid way while Edward will go on this suicide mission and die there without even having a chance to restore his and Al’s bodies.

The gun was suddenly lowered but still dangerously aimed at him.

“Wait, are you doing this because the general wanted Fullmetal?” the Lieutenant seemed to make mental calculations now. “Is Fullmetal actually 15? The General and I thought that this is just a typo,” the gun was even lower now but still trembling, still aimed at Roy.

“Yes, he is 15 and yes, your General wanted him for this job. And I am the one who gets this treatment,” Roy lowered his hands now, once he saw that the Lieutenant was doubting his decision. Just a second and he’ll get to his gloves and never remove them until this mission is over.

“So you volunteered because you didn’t want your subordinate dying? This can’t be true. No, you are an alchemist, you are just trying to manipulate me. Hands in the air, now!” The gun was again aimed at his forehead, his hands in the air – again. Nothing seemed to get to the Lieutenant.

Seeing no way out of this and that the Lieutenant didn't seem even remotely persuaded, Roy felt increasingly more panicked. He didn't let it show on his face and he swore at himself for failing to hold composure in his thoughts, but he couldn't do anything about it. If the next attempt at persuasion - his next attempt at honesty - fails, he will have to try to run away from the gun, risking getting a bullet in the process.

“Look, I wasn’t dreaming of doing this mission. I don’t know anyone who is there, and I am not the one to do anything heroic. Alright, you caught me, I am not out of my mind worried for all these people there as I probably should be, okay?” Roy’s voice was sounding increasingly more irritated.

“But I have to do this. And not, I am not planning to run away. Believe me or not but I wouldn’t survive knowing that I didn’t help innocent people when they were attacked,” his words only seemed to make the Lieutenant laugh now. So much for trusting your fellow soldiers. “And if you kill me right now, they are going to send Edward there. The Fullmetal. And you don’t know anything about him and don’t give a single shit about him, but I do. And he is an annoying kid. Oh, he is so annoying and irritating, and he probably didn’t live a single day in his life without destroying something or giving me more paperwork. But he is a good kid. And his brother depends on him. And he has this goal in his life – a really important goal – and I promised that I will do my best to help him achieve it. I didn’t actually promise this to him, but it was meant when I recruited him anyway. And this mission is the least I can do to help them. I cannot just sit back on my desk and let him go on this mission and either die or feel guilty for failing to save people in this hospital. I cannot just sit there and let this happen. And sorry, maybe I don’t care for all these patients and doctors and nurses and soldiers as much as I care about Edward. I am sorry that I probably have all the wrong reasons, but I actually really want to help. I will see that I will do all I can. I promise. I know this is the last thing I am going to ever do in my life and for once I want to do everything perfectly. I want to save as many people as I can. I want to do this more than anything in my life, do you understand that, Lieutenant?”

_Please, I am just trying to protect one my lousy subordinate._

_That’s it._ _  
I don’t give a shit about the beauty of explosions._

_I am not going to use flame alchemy there anyway._

_Just give me a chance._

_Just one tiny chance._

There was no answer from the Lieutenant and no bullet in his head either. This was encouraging and Roy decided to continue with this honesty - however unused he was to being honest at this point.

“I did terrible things in Ishval. I followed orders when I was watched. I burned people to ashes. I pretended that I did it to save other soldiers in my platoon but all I did was assisting this genocide and I only saved a handful of people while I don’t even know how many I killed,” Roy looked straight in the barrel of the gun. “I deserve this bullet and even more. Oh how I wished to kill myself when we got back. How I looked at every gun and just imagined that my death will change something, atone for at least one my sin out of thousands. How I wished to change the past or create this alchemic equation that will restore everything back as it was.”

“But the truth is, there is nothing I can do. I don’t even deserve to die so easily now, after what I did. Me and my friends, we promised each other to change this country. And now I am running away not even trying to accomplish this goal”. 

_Oh this started looking like what talking to a psychotherapist was supposed to look like - not that he ever tried to be honest with psychotherapists after Ishval, however much they tried to heal his depression. Oh, they only needed a gun at his head to make him talk, didn't they?_

“So yes, I deserve this. I deserve your bullet. I wish you could kill me and leave me here so that I could just disappear. Because I disappointed everyone in my life and broke all my promises. But you cannot do this. You cannot do this because if you do this, they will send Edward. And I cannot let this happen. I cannot let him be there. Please.”

The Lieutenant was staring at him with a sudden sense of apprehension now. He hid his gun halfway through Roy’s speech but his hand just stayed there, aimed at Roy and trembling. He was grasping for air, shocked and somehow strangely _believing_ him now.

“I also wanted to kill myself after the Ishval,” he said at least. “I am sorry, I was mistaken,” the Lieutenant added after a long pause. “Or you are a damn good manipulator, Colonel, Sir”.

_Oh, there you go, treating me like a superior officer after I told my whole life story to you._

The rest of the path to the hospital was much easier for Roy. Somehow, after the whole ordeal, there was some strange sort of peace between him and the Lieutenant. They didn't talk much after that but it felt that the Lieutenant was strangely trusting Roy, and Roy - even after he considered for a minute to tie the Lieutenant up and arrest him for attempting to murder a superior officer - couldn't bring himself to do this. Whatever issues they had between them seemed to recede and the Lieutenant now being even eager to help him through the way. Roy needed more allies on his last mission and the platoon needed more soldiers rather than arresting one very capable soldier. So there was an unspoken agreement between Roy and the Lieutenant that they were going to keep this event between them.

They reached the hospital in two hours – just as planned. The soldiers in the hospital seemed to be as wary of him as the Lieutenant initially – just as expected. It seemed that Kimblee made sure that every single soldier in the Southern command distrusted the alchemists.

_Yeah, so much for a perfect mission, Roy._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have our next chapter. I think it is more of an intermediary chapter until any action will actually start (not that there will be a lot of action in the first place). In total, I think there will be no more than 7 chapters but I don't know for sure.

The sight of the hospital was beautiful.

Not that Roy ever cared about places being beautiful or stunning, but he couldn’t help but noticed the idyllic scenery of the hospital’s location. There was a little lake just below the hill where the hospital was located – also beautiful, surrounded by pines and with abandoned old and crusty fishing boats. Many trees in the area were of an expressive bright red colour. Certainly, there in the mountains, fall had already started. The hospital itself was built in an old, 16th century fortress – a border outpost at the time when Amestris did not yet conquer Aerugian border regions. In this beautiful place, war seemed absolutely out-of-place. Every time there was a gunshot, the smooth surface of the lake was set into grim rhythmic motion, and there were startled screams of animals as if they weren’t living in a war zone for the last week. Some of the beautiful red trees were laying around uprooted, and cozy village houses next to the lake all had signs of rushed abandonment – broken children’s toys lying around; abandoned pets looking lonely and desperate; forgotten suitcases on doorsteps, and dinners on tables inside still waiting for families to return.

This was a type of place Roy imagined he would protect when he was about to join the military and become a state alchemist. Oh, how he wished he was sent to this border instead of Ishval, so he could protect all people who felt attached to these cozy looking village houses, abandoned fish boats and forgotten suitcases. He’d be a soldier like the ones on propaganda brochures – tall, with broad shoulders, carrying a big gun and smiling gently at people he swore to protect, bringing hope to people fleeing enemy troops. He’d be willing to die up there, in shallow trenches, and in an unequal fight with enemy hordes but knowing that thanks to his efforts, there were more children who didn’t have to move out of their houses and more people who didn’t have to lose their loved ones. This place was just what he was in the army for – but 10 years too late and now all but bringing desperation because protecting this place meant not protecting other people and not changing the country like he wanted to.

On the other side of the hospital – the side unmistakably facing the enemy army, there were rows of trenches on what was once a village road; there were lines and lines of barb wire in front of trenches; land mines in the big field before the enemy trenches; there were gunshots and cannons and blood, blood, blood. There was only one bright red tree on this side of the hospital, and Roy wondered how the hell it survived here, in the middle of the gunfire.

Roy was able to start his work right away – just after a short drill from the local colonel (stay close to the trenches, don’t do anything stupid, don’t step on a landmine, don’t waste ammunition unless absolutely necessary, don’t do anything stupid), and he went to the trenches, only having a small handgun, a stick and a piece of chalk to draw with. Just as it seemed customary for local soldiers, his small escort party looked absolutely, stunningly not friendly. He may as well have had the Aerugian uniform on – so unfriendly and unkindly these soldiers were looking at him.

_Whatever. He was here just to do his job._

A circle. A hexagon inside. Two tangled rhombi. A triangle to connect the energy flow.

This transmutation array required an insane amount of concentration but at the same time, it was energy-efficient. The first wall he built was sleek, thin but he was certain that it was durable. He borrowed this 3-layered design for walls from his old alchemy notes. A thin mineral shell on the outside, then a stone compound and the sand in between. This way, only a strong blow would scratch its area from the outside, and the sand pillow will make the structure more stable, as it will slow down any blow and thus diminish blast impacts and prevent stone fragments from flying too far and injuring soldiers.

Soldiers from his escort party looked at the wall like children at a magician who just pulled a dove out of his hat. Of course, Southern soldiers were not used to alchemy – wouldn’t be, as the General clearly hated alchemists and local religious beliefs were opposed to alchemy, so not a lot of civilian alchemists were there either. He was good at this. _Why, again, wasn’t he called something like “Mineral-walls-alchemist” and sent to places that needed walls, not warriors? Ah, of course, he thought that flame was more dramatic and effective. Of course, he did._

A circle. A hexagon inside. Two tangled rhombi. A triangle to connect the energy flow.

His next wall was built just outside the outer ring of trenches. Just one transmutation and there was a long wall covering the whole length of the trench and hopefully – of enemy’s shooting range.

“Hell you’re doing? How are we going to see the enemy?”

Oh, of course, a part of his training under Maestro Hawkeye was simply designated as “don’t be an idiot” and he was great at failing this part. Why didn’t he think about incorporating windows inside of the walls?

A circle. A hexagon inside. Two tangled rhombi. A triangle to connect the energy flow.

He fixed the wall with a few ugly looking windows in parts where soldiers could easily use them for looking at the enemy lines and shooting when necessary. Ugly looking because his ideal wall design wasn’t suitable for making holes in it. When he designed it, he thought about durability and protecting children, and brave soldiers with broad shoulders gently speaking with those they swore to defend, - not about the peculiarities of trench warfare.

“Anything else?” Roy asked the captain of his escort party (slash convoy to make sure he won’t flee) in the tone of a restaurant server who just brought the best dish to the table.

“Stop grinning like an idiot and go back. We have work to do,” the Captain didn’t even try to look pleased with his work or pretend to be his subordinate. But just when Roy was about to get angry and pull rank, the Captain seemed to count the number of stripes on his uniform (wasn’t it something the soldiers should do automatically? Or was he doing it just to show him his place?) and seemed to find some resemblance of the tone one uses to speak with superior officers. “Sir, please stop smiling and go back to the hospital. We will carry on from there,” not that the orders changed.

Roy sighed and navigated the trenches to return back to the hospital. He’ll have his own orders and soldiers following his commands just after he learns more about the area and the situation. For the time being, he did what he was asked to do and did it damn well.

The first day of his last week started.

-/

_Age: 29_

Riza was filling Roy’s medical records form. She was writing in perfect resemblance of Roy’s neat handwriting and with confidence of someone who did this far more times than she cared to admit. Every time soldiers completed assignments under a new command, they had to submit their medical records to the military records office of their current commander. Roy was supposed to fill his form on his own – this was confidential information after all – but he was relieved of this duty some time ago after several… incidents.

_Allergies: none._

Riza smiled because she remembered the time when Roy bluntly wrote that he had a severe allergy to rain and recommended not to give him any assignments requiring being outside in the rainy weather. Sometimes he was too creative with paperwork for his own good.

_Height: 5'8"_

Every time Roy filled his medical records form, he seemed to forget his height. Last time, he wrote 5’0’’ – all while managing to consistently tease Ed about his height. Riza suspected that Roy always calculated his height when asked because she often found him musing about things like “how many matchboxes tall am I?” every time he had to fill one of these forms. For an alchemist, his calculations were surprisingly off. He was much better at writing reports of recent missions – these required some degree of creativity to present everything in a way each general liked, to conceal what went wrong or what needed to be concealed just for the sake of it; he was also good with his research reports and notes on novel alchemy research. When it came to remembering his height or blood type, however, he was absolutely useless.

_Mental issues: none._

Riza sighed. The main reason Roy was not allowed to fill this form anymore was the incident with Ed. Last time Roy had to submit this form, he managed to fall asleep right on his desk at the time when Ed was supposed to arrive. He slept through the whole duration of Ed’s visit next to many documents which were supposed to be confidential from Ed – such as requests for Fullmetal alchemist to do assignments on frontlines or leads on philosopher’s stone which were too risky for him. It was good that Ed only noticed his medical form. It was bad, however, that the one Roy submitted was filled with various drawings of creatures with horns and teeth and a wide arrangement of mental health issues written in Ed’s almost incomprehensible handwriting: ‘alcoholism, immense stupidity, pyromania, proneness to procrastination, pervertism’. The document earned Roy a few concerned looks from the officer at the local military records. Maes had to use his personal connections to get rid of the document. This was the final straw for Riza’s resolve not to allow Roy to fill this form anymore. His path to the Fuhrer’s position couldn’t be hampered by something so stupid as an incorrect medical records form used by his enemies to show that he was mentally unstable. There were enough rumours flying around about alchemists and especially alchemists who were to Ishval.

“Ma’am, do you want coffee?”

“It’s Lieutenant,” Riza answered automatically. “And yes, I would like a cup, please.”

Riza worked in an office of Sergeant Robertson – a young man who was helping her navigating the offices of the Southern command (actually terribly too young, his face still had some of its young softness and he clearly graduated from the academy just recently, having all signs of a recent academy graduate, such as being too worried in front of a superior military officer or too straightforward when it came to orders). He was quite helpful. He brought the coffee when he felt she needed it, he found an only working copy-machine in the entire office, and didn’t mind helping her to fill the forms. At the same time, there was some unnerving quality about him Riza couldn’t quite place. Not that Sergeant Robertson felt evil or treacherous – quite the opposite, actually, but he seemed so sad and depressed, that Riza couldn’t help but wonder what exactly may have affected the Sergeant in such terrible way in his very young age. Family issues, perhaps?

“The mission plan you were asking for, Sir,” Sergeant Robertson put a stack of papers in front of her.

The Sergeant remained standing next to her, clearly about to ask about something but so concerned with unnecessarily worrying a superior officer it was actually almost cute.

“Go ahead, Sergeant,” Riza said in her most gentle tone.

“Your superior officer… Is he a good person?” Sergeant’s resolve to ask the question seemed to disappear at the same moment. “Sorry I asked. Never mind.” He wanted to leave almost immediately but Riza stopped him. She knew that the entire Southern command had trust issues with alchemists – a courtesy of the General who was too eager to judge actions of all by the actions of a few. She also knew that if there was any way she could assure at least one soldier that Roy Mustang was indeed a good man – the best she knew, actually – she had to do it, however not influential her actions were.

“He is a good person. You shouldn’t worry about this assignment – I am sure he will do his best to complete what is required of him,” her voice had a note of her resolute conviction in one Roy Mustang.

The Sergeant clearly heard steady resolution in her voice and seemed somehow sadder now.

“It’s even worse if he’s a good person,” he said somehow cryptically and left right away.

An uneasy feeling lurked its way into Riza’s head now. She couldn’t help but remember how irregularly normal Roy’s behaviour had been in the last few days. He didn’t complain that it was raining too much in the Southern mountains (though it was); he didn’t ask for some additional perks in exchange for this assignment – like a day without paperwork or going home earlier next Friday; he wasn’t his annoying, complaining self recently. Instead, he was cheerful on a rainy day, he joked and smiled when he was supposed to be complaining like the rain was the worst thing ever. But General Rawls wanted to send Ed to this mission. Was there any way this mission was more dangerous that Roy allowed her to think? _No, it couldn’t be. There was no reason to panic._

From the very little information about this mission Riza was able to gather (Roy didn’t share any information besides “I will need to build walls” and “I will get a promotion because soldiers there worship fire and they will worship me – a perfect plan, ha”), the mission didn’t seem too dangerous. Sure, this mission required a direct confrontation with enemy troops – something Roy never allowed Ed to do – but Roy was a veteran and a good alchemist. There wasn’t any reason for Riza to be this worried. Why, then, did she feet so uneasy about the whole ordeal? This wasn’t the first time Roy decided to go on a mission instead of Ed. And he never admitted to actual reasons why he’d take so many missions instead of his subordinate. Most of the times, he just boasted about how these missions will help him to earn the next promotion or relieve him of paperwork for a few days or give more reasons to tease Ed about (“ _I was fighting insurgents while you were researching plants in the library – ha!_ ”).

He never admitted caring about Ed even though every single one of these missions was more dangerous than the ones Ed was assigned to (not that Ed didn’t manage to get in trouble anyway) and these missions required killing or fighting in a war. He never explained why he’d go to such lengths so that Ed never knew about these missions either. Riza knew that this was another way to ensure Ed’s safety – the boy was just too proud to learn that he was being treated like a child by his own superior officer. But the last time, Roy overdid himself by shutting down postal offices in the whole town where Ed was. Would he go to such lengths for a not very dangerous mission? Sure, Roy had a somewhat over-amplified sense of danger when it came to his subordinates. But doing something so reckless as what he did with the postal offices was quite uncharacteristic for Roy.

Riza left the office and followed the Sergeant to a little kitchen nearby. The Sergeant was angrily washing dishes which seemed to not require any washing in the first place – another sign of obvious distress.

“I saw you talking to your commander yesterday. I was on the patrol duty,” he said not facing Riza – he was still washing the goddamn dishes. “I thought that he’s a good guy. Even if he thinks that frucionists would follow him as a prophet just because he is a fire alchemist.”

Ow, so he heard them talking too. Riza definitely needed to do some image maintenance for Roy – and Roy needed to learn not to say stupid things when everyone can hear him. She’ll definitely going to shoot him just in case he won’t understand. Riza wanted to say something but Sergeant Robertson continued talking.

“I told Oliver that the Colonel seems like a nice guy. but Oliver became even more annoyed,” he blushed. “Oliver gets jealous too often and after what Kimblee did, he cannot trust any alchemists. Sorry about that,” he finished blearily.

“Do you mean the Lieutenant Oliver Savante-Smith?” This was bad. What if the danger on this mission stemmed from the distrust of the Southern soldiers rather than the nature of the mission itself? Of course, she should be with Roy right now. He needed a bodyguard now more than ever.

“Yeah. We are kind of a thing,” the Lieutenant blushed again. Rarely anyone in the military admitted to having a relationship because of the fraternization laws, let alone homosexual relationship. But Riza didn’t care a bit. “I’m sorry, Ma’am – after I said he’s nice, Oliver became even angrier. I know nothing happened though, so they are going to be fine for a while,” Oh, that’s what it all was about. Riza remembered how Roy ‘accidentally’ burned someone’s military jacket after this poor guy looked at her for too long. Well, sometimes men couldn’t help, could they?

“What do you mean, for a while? Do you mean for the duration of the mission?”  
“Oh, you don’t know Ma’am, do you?” Now, the Lieutenant was looking more like a sad lost boy.

This was the moment when Riza _understood_.

Stupid Roy Mustang – he was always eager to allow her to “watch his back” when there was no danger. The minute he thought that there will be a serious threat to his life, watching his back became an arduous exercise of trying to figure out how to watch his back while he was trying to leave her behind. Every fucking time.

Her first instinct was to go after him to whatever hellish mission he volunteered this time. To him, to hell if necessary. They had a common goal and she didn’t know what she’d do without this goal. To be honest, what to do without him. But after a few hours of meetings, trying to gather any available information about the mission, talking to General Rawls – hell, did he want to give this mission to Ed? What was he thinking?! – Riza understood the sad truth. There was no way to get to the hospital without disrupting whole military operations. There was no way to climb through the mountain path while people were being evacuated. There was no way to leave the Southern command without being court-martialled. Apparently, Roy went as far as asking her to be jailed. For fuck’s sake, Roy.

Hawkeye was famous for her resolve. For her confidence in her abilities. For her ability to manage her way out of any chaos.

But now, she was absolutely, utterly panicked. Her only mission in life – her only chance for even a minute atonement – and the most important person in her life (the most important stupid evasive person, damn, Roy) – were in danger.  
-/

“Hmm… What is going to happen if I will use gravel instead of sand?” Roy was sitting in the middle of the cafeteria with his research notes lying around. He knew that there was only a little time for him to rest – and he damn needed it before the next exhausting alchemy session. But he couldn’t stop thinking about ways in which he could improve the design of the walls he was building to incorporate the much-needed windows in them.

He looked up and noticed the soldiers who were sitting at his table leaving to join another table. All 5 of them. He realized that he was sitting all alone at the biggest table in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, with his research notes sprayed around and three dinner plates with every option from the menu. _He was hungry, okay?_

This was just another example of soldiers being distrustful of him. This looked too much like power games in a high school – “accidentally” bumping into him, “accidentally” forgiving his rank / name, and now leaving him alone in the cafeteria. Compared with actually being threatened by fellow officers, this seemed ridiculously petty and _inconsequential_ but something about this was wrong. He couldn’t possibly help these people if they distrusted him so much.

“Sir, there is a meeting of commanding officers in 30 minutes in the Northern wing of the hospital,” Lieutenant Oliver Savante-Smith approached him. The Lieutenant who following yesterday’s display of absolute distrust (slash-assassination-attempt) now served to Roy as a stunning example of why being left alone in the cafeteria wasn’t that bad in comparison. “Please, be careful with Colonel Higgins,” he added very quietly. “He doesn’t like you at all.”

Roy sighed – everyone, absolutely everyone in this damned place didn’t like him. But he was ready for a bit of power games. This was his element and he was ready to manipulate his way to the top in the Petri dish of this hospital where everyone was not on his side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much fun writing this, so it's no wonder word count of each chapter is creeping up. Thanks for reading this if you do. I'm doing this more for personal fun but if anyone reads this then I am thoroughly happy.

As a matter of fact, Maes Hughes’ evening schedule was usually very busy. Mowing the lawn, washing the dishes, chatting with Gracia about day’s events… Now, Maes was meticulously looking through the new photos of Elicia and selecting the ones he’ll show tomorrow at work. Even though it looked like he showed all photos of Elicia to everyone who happened to be around, in fact, there was a system to demonstration of Elicia’s photos. A few cute ones were prepared for the higher-ups – no more than 1 at a time because he never wanted to overwhelm them. A few photos showcasing Elicia with her new bike or the new dance she learned – these were prepared for his colleagues. Finally, a big bunch of photos was prepared for Roy because Roy always got annoyed when Maes showed him hundreds of photos each time they met, and Maes lived for annoying Roy. Besides, Roy promised to teach Elicia to ride the bike personally – now he at least deserved photos even if he hadn’t time to actually teach Elicia anything, being stationed in another city and doing more assignments than any colonel usually did.

When Maes was almost finished with his difficult task, his phone rang. A phone call in the middle of the night was never a good sign. If it was from work, it probably meant another heinous crime. If it was from anyone else, then… well, it was rarely a good sign either.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes, I am sincerely sorry for bothering you at this hour but there is an issue I wanted to discuss with you,” it was Riza who sounded as calm as ever but nevertheless this call was the worst possible sign for Maes. Riza never ever called him late at night except for that one time she was worried for Roy after Ishval. And no one knows what would have happened if she didn’t call him that time.

She refused to tell him what exactly she was worrying about, but it was clear to Maes that his best friend was in grave danger.

“The Rook, the Bishop, the Knight, and the Pawn will be there soon but we need a few extra pieces to have a chance at winning in the endgame,” leave it to Mustang’s team to talk in chess riddles.

“Do you have any strategy in mind for the endgame?” Maes sighed. He didn’t know anything about the kind of danger Roy was in, but at least Riza could hint him if she had a plan.

“Yes, but we would need an additional rook. I’ve heard of an endgame technique which has been passed down the Armstrong family line for generations, and I think it’s an only fitting solution in this situation.”

Riza didn’t tell him anything else but it was already clear to Maes that she needed help from Major Armstrong. Maes made a few mental calculations. If he and Armstrong leave tomorrow morning, they will arrive in the evening of the same day. Whatever it was that Roy Mustang had got himself into will hopefully wait for at least a day.

When he and Armstrong arrived at the Southern command next evening, Maes Hughes saw the Roy Mustang unit in full strength, only missing Roy Mustang himself. They didn’t look like anyone was in danger, and Maes found himself chatting with Breda about Elicia’s new bike a few minutes later.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, I believe you have important matters to attend to.”

“I do?” Hughes looked at Riza dumbfoundedly, hoping that he’ll finally learn the plan and what kind of danger Roy was in.

“Yes, you have to prepare to the meeting with General Rawls you requested.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you wanted to get to know him and learn how he manages his family and work at the same time. And while you are at it, you should also persuade General Rawls to allow us to build a tunnel to the Fostet hospital.”

Well, Riza Hawkeye always had grandiose solutions to problems, didn’t she?

-/

Snap. A fire ball encompassed dense plants in front of a small group of soldiers.

Roy Mustang _loved_ fire. He may have had bad memories related to fire and hated killing people with fire, but he absolutely _loved_ the fire itself and the power his fire alchemy granted him. Before he was about to join this mission, he thought that he wouldn’t have to use any fire alchemy while on the mission, and now he was thrilled that he was mistaken. He barely managed to conceal the look of absolute content on his face.

This was the third day of this mission for Roy (the previous day spent in dull sessions of building walls and exhausting meetings with other commanding officers who didn’t trust him even one bit) and at last, he had a chance of doing something less boring. Something less boring being finding a more or less elevated place to get a glimpse at the enemy lines and any problems with their own defences. Their group consisted of him, Colonel Higgins, and the Captain whose name Roy already forgot. Basically, this group included every high-ranking officer from the hospital platoon. In reality, having all high-ranking officers leaving the platoon they were supposed to supervise, was immensely stupid. Even if they weren’t doing anything dangerous, no one should leave a whole platoon without any commander ranking above lieutenant. They could all fall into a pit, for all Roy knew. But Colonel Higgins insisted he personally gets a look at the enemy lines, and Higgins never did anything without his Captain. What concerned Roy – well, he wanted to have fun and staying in a place where everyone hated him was far from his definition of fun. At least, Higgins and his Captain weren’t so obvious in their hatred towards him. Besides, Higgins would never leave the platoon in his command, so his time was better spent learning more about the enemy lines.

“Why would you do this?” Higgins asked, pointing at the new fire ball Roy threw at the bushes in front of them. Higgins didn’t look even remotely as thrilled as Roy was. “What if anyone sees us?”

“Your map says that we should go in this direction. These bushes were impenetrable, and there is no one around,” no, Roy wouldn’t ever admit that he was tired of spending entire two days without burning something. Besides, they were actually lost (apparently, finding an elevated point in the mountains was a struggle, huh), and there wasn’t ever anything wrong with lighting a few plants on fire as far as Roy was concerned.

Just as they passed the bushes, they found a nice footpath leading up the mountain. _Once again, Roy saved the day, didn’t he?_

Feeling satisfied with his handy solution of the dense vegetation problem, Roy decided to spend the rest of this trip learning more about the Colonel. _Learning more as in annoying him so much that he will let his mask of indifference slip._

“So tell me, Colonel Higgins, what’s your problem with me?” Roy started with a sarcastically overdramatic look of sorrow on his face. “Have you witnessed Kimblee doing something atrocious? What was that? Eating with an open mouth in front of you? Not holding doors for other people? Stealing your girlfriend? Or maybe…”

“ _Another alchemist_ stole my girlfriend. I never said that I have a problem with you, Mustang. Though in fact, it’s true. I don’t really like you,” Higgins’ voice was saturated with poison.

“Huh, so is it all about a girlfriend then? That’s why you struck down all my suggestions during yesterday’s meetings?” Great, Roy received a first-hand confession that he was being treated unfairly. Back in the day, this would have been a good insight into another colonel – something that he could use to get a promotion instead of Higgins. Now though, this bit of information only served for Roy’s personal amusement. “My suggestion would allow us to use less ammunition and have more soldiers for the evacuation. Sad when commander’s personal views interfere with such important decisions.”

“No, I struck down your suggestions because you have zero experience fighting trench warfare. And I don’t like you not because of Adelaide.”

“Do you mean Adelaide with ponytails? Or the one who was a Secretary in the 8th division?”

“Are you telling me you stole 2 girlfriends called Adelaide? I’ve never ever met anyone with this name before meeting the one Adelaide I dated,” Higgins was sounding increasingly angrier now. _The mission of annoying him was an absolute success._

“Anyway, regardless of our past, we have to take fair decisions in this job. I don’t have any experience fighting in trenches, but you also don’t have any experience incorporating an alchemist in your defence lines. We can make use of that and share our expertise.”

“Right. You are the one to share knowledge. Do you know why exactly I don’t like you?”

“If it’s not about the girlfriend or Kimblee, then I’d bet on ethical reservations against alchemy,” Roy continued in a high voice mocking priests of old religions. “God’s creations should not be manipulated by mere people. Alchemy is a sin of the humanity, and every alchemist should be…”

He was interrupted.

“It’s not alchemy! It’s not actions of other alchemists. It’s not even you dating every single girl South of Briggs. It’s _you._ ”

“Me?”

“Yes. We haven’t met a lot but every single time we meet, you prove to be a manipulative bastard who’d do anything to get a promotion. You are the vainest person I’ve ever met. I mean, why are you even asking why people don’t like you? Is there anyone who actually likes you?”

Oh, this was such a low blow that Roy even stopped for a second. To make matters worse, it started to rain.

“What else are you going to tell me? Have I been adopted? My mum never wanted me? Every single girl I dated only was there for the looks?” Roy shrugged. “I know you are projecting, and I am really sorry you feel so lonely. You know, I am there if you need someone to talk to. I can even be your first friend ever”, Roy finished with a big smirk. At the same time, he knew that he was projecting himself. He was adopted. He was pretty sure his biological mother never wanted him, or she wouldn’t leave for Xing without him. And he avoided commitment in any relationship he had, so he only dated girls who were there for his looks and status.

“Colonel Higgins, Colonel Mustang, we are almost at our destination. Please, could you refrain from further discussions?” the Captain said in a tone of someone who clearly had lost every last bit of patience he had. When he saw that both colonels were about to continue bickering, he added: “For God’s sake, please stop.”

It was true, they were able to see the enemy lines from this point, albeit not very well. Higgins started drawing what he saw in his notebook, and Roy just sat there – being an alchemist, he was good at remembering lines. Even if the lines below him were trenches, soldiers, and military barracks. Now, it was raining viciously, and he wished he never went outside today in the first place. What good will Higgins’ confession that he let personal feelings play a role in his decisions do to Roy when the mission will be over in a few days – and all his chances for a promotion (or life) too.

Suddenly, the bushes behind three Amestrians started to move, and a few extremely inebriated Aerugian soldiers appeared from there. They looked at the Amestrians dumbfoundedly, trying to figure out if enemy soldiers so close to their camp were just a hallucination. One of the Aerugians finally understood that they were indeed the enemy and pointed a gun at the Colonel Higgins. The gun was trembling and upside down and, in this condition, the soldier hardly had any chances of using it properly.

Three Amestrians looked at each other apprehensively. Engaging in a gunfight this close to the enemy camp was a quick way to attract attention. Not engaging in a fight was as dangerous. Flame alchemy though was much quieter than guns.

“Flame alchemy. Use. Now,” Higgins enunciated in a whisper.

Roy automatically snapped his fingers but there was only a small puff of smoke. Oh, he almost forgot it was raining.

“Sorry, not working,” he whispered back while trying to reach to his own gun.

Higgins looked enraged but didn’t say anything else. The soldier in front of them finally figured out how to hold a gun. Higgins ran from their cover, engaging in a fistfight with the enemy. When Roy finally picked his own gun and shot the one soldier with the gun, it was only for him to see Higgins hitting the ground like a bag of potatoes. Higgins was shot. Below them, in the enemy camp, Aerugian soldiers noticed the gunshots so close to their camp and started moving in their direction.

There was also a strange growling sound which was quite familiar to Roy, but he couldn’t place it.

-/

General Rawls was nervously tapping his fingers on the table. Nervously because he just had a unique and unforgettable experience of meeting Major Alex Louis Armstrong for the first time in his life. Previously, he thought Roy Mustang was a weird alchemist type but now he’d gladly exchange his few minutes of meeting Major Armstrong with a few hours of talking to Roy Mustang. The Lieutenant Colonel Hughes on the other hand was quite normal for someone with such weird friends. The man was good at small talk – Hughes clearly was a person, who felt like a close friend just after a few minutes of talking to him. Right now, Hughes was talking about difficulties of managing family and military life at the same time, while in a flattering way implying that the General was the person who was able to succeed at both.

“Cut it to the chase, Lieutenant Colonel. I know that you didn’t make it all the way from Central to discuss how I manage my family and work.”

“You are right, Sir. Though I do mean every word I said before. I greatly respect you for both your military achievements and having been there for your family. I know from personal experience…”

“Just tell me what exactly you are here for.”

“See, I came across a report about the situation in Fostet hospital, and I think I have a perfect solution for you.”

“Continue,” Rawls was never a guy to not consider every single one possible solution to keep his soldiers safe.

“We suggest building a tunnel to the Fostet hospital,” Hughes stood up and opened the map of the area he brought with him. “From Sard, the closest to the hospital location which is not yet annexed by the Aerugians, under the old railway – we expect the ground there to be more stable for building a tunnel – and under these farms,” Hughes pointed at a few red dots on the map. “The tunnel will end there, just underneath the hospital. We believe that we will be able to evacuate the patients from the hospital and even bring additional forces to defend it while we are at it.”

Rawls looked at the map for a few minutes. This indeed seemed like a generously _good_ plan to save his soldiers. But he knew for sure that the military in Central never cared for soldiers’ lives enough to come up with such a solution. There was clearly an underlying motive.

“It looks like the tunnel will be at least 6 miles in length. Do you expect Major Armstrong alone to be able to build it?”

“See, we expect to make use of the network of the underground caves underneath Sard,” Hughes pointed at the area on the map. “Then, we’ll have to build the tunnels connecting to the caves, but we expect that the actual tunnel we will have to build will be maximum 3 miles in length. Major Armstrong is a state alchemist and he’ll succeed at that.”

“And the time frame for your plan to work?”

“Four days, Sir.”

Rawls sighed. He wasn’t expecting the hospital to hold off for so long. The platoon at the hospital was already understaffed and lacked the ammunition to fight off the Aerugian advances. Sad – he almost hoped that this Lieutenant Colonel will bring him the wonder he needed so much.

“Both you and I know that the hospital won’t hold that long.”

“But Sir, the Flame alchemist…”

“Unless you expect the Flame alchemist to burn every single Aerugian soldier to ashes, I don’t see how he can help the platoon to hold longer than three days at most,” Rawls looked closely at the Lieutenant Colonel in front of him. The way he was speaking about the Flame alchemist… Yesterday, Rawls fended off Lieutenant Hawkeye’s attempts to join the mission in the Fostet hospital. Then, an entire unit from the East arrived at his command and also tried to volunteer to go to Fostet. Now, there were soldiers from Central who “accidentally” stumbled upon a report about the hospital. Was there something about the hospital he didn’t know? Or the Flame Alchemist? Rawls knew from his personal experience that the higher-ups were… lenient when it came to disciplining state alchemists. The Fuhrer clearly believed in saving lives of alchemists even at expense of ordinary soldiers. Thinking about it made Rawls angry. They didn’t expect the entire platoon to survive. They only wanted to save the Flame alchemist – and being an alchemist, he clearly had more chances, especially if they will give the platoon an order to hold off any advances, even at expense of their lives. In four days, they will arrive at the hospital to collect an only remaining soldier there, and his men – his great brave men – will be sacrificed for the life of a single alchemist. Just thinking about this injustice made Rawls’ blood boil.

“I don’t see how this is a solution to anything,” Rawls started coldly. He wished he could just kick the Lieutenant Colonel out of his office and never see him again but if – as he suspected – the man was sent by the higher-ups, there was no way Rawls could do this without repercussions. “The hospital will be captured by the time your tunnel will be finished. But if there is an Earth alchemist willing to build tunnels at our disposal, then I suggest building one to Riklen.” Following a confused look from the Lieutenant Colonel, he added: “There is a weak link in enemy’s defences. We’ll be able to strike fast and defeat the enemy forces. This is a chance at getting all our territories back.”

“Sir, if I may, this plan allows us to save the soldiers at the hospital. You cannot leave them die if there is even a small chance for us to save them.”

Rawls looked at the man in front of him in disgust. Huh, and he believed that Roy Mustang cared about other people – God forgive him – he even prayed for the life of this god-forsaken alchemist. He believed that this man volunteered himself to save a young subordinate. Now, it was clear to Rawls that Roy Mustang saw this mission as nothing else but a way to be hailed as a hero who survived in a bloodbath, and the military commanders were certainly willing to endorse anything he wanted.

“It’s a final decision. I am not allowing you to build a whole tunnel to save one soldier, however valuable your Central higher-ups think alchemists are. If you are willing to build a tunnel to Riklen – the one allowing us to strike at the enemy forces where they don’t expect us – then I will consider it. This meeting is over.”

-/

Roy ducked under the cover of the tree nearby. He was no Hawkeye but even he was able to shoot at drunk soldiers right in front of him quite successfully. When the gunfight was over, he heard new footsteps from below – other Aerugian soldiers were approaching. The best time to run was now. He looked around but couldn’t find either the Captain or the other Colonel. He vaguely remembered that the Captain was holding Higgins’ body during the gunfight, but he couldn’t possibly understand where they were. With enemy soldiers approaching from behind, he had very little time to look for them. He quickly drew an array in the mud and created a wall between him and the path leading to the Aerugian base and started looking for the signs of the Captain and his Colonel.

It was raining so much that he had a hard time seeing anything. Were they dead? Did they fall down the mountain? Were there any other Aerugian soldiers who took them? He looked under the thick bushes nearby, called for the Colonel, shouted their names, looked at the path down for the signs that they already left. The Aerugians were destroying the wall he built, and he had very little time left. Seeing that there was no signs of the Colonel and the Captain, he decided to go back to the hospital to organize a rescue mission. He quickly found the path they used to get there and started ascending down the mountain, just when the Aerugians destroyed his wall and started chasing him. When he was running down the mountain, he thought that it was a mystery they didn’t capture or kill him. Probably, the rain played to his advantage – he hardly managed to see the Aerugians chasing him, and they probably also had a hard time finding him behind the veil of rain.

He was running for an hour straight when he finally heard no footsteps behind him. It seemed like an eternity and he also lost the way they used to get there. But Roy didn’t care. All he could think about was how he left the Captain and the Colonel behind. Why didn’t he look just a bit longer? What if they were already captured because of him? Because he couldn’t stay a minute longer. Because he didn’t want to risk his life. _Because he was a coward. A coward. A coward._

He realized that he was closer to the Aerugian base now than he expected. He could even see the soldiers now. He looked closely, trying to figure out if they were processing the captives there. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then, there was this sound again he recognized but couldn’t quite place. A low growl of something. He squinted, trying to get a better look but could only get a glimpse at something metallic. What it was?

Finally, he decided to return to his camp. Someone needed to tell everyone else about the Captain and the Colonel and maybe even organize a rescue mission or negotiations to exchange the captives. _Oh, he was so tired. His legs hardly moved after days of using alchemy and after he had to run under rain for an hour now. He felt like every single part of him was soaked wet._

He walked for another hour and a half until he finally reached the hospital. The soldier on the guard duty gave him a weird look. Roy walked past her without asking anything. _He knew for sure it was probably because he was soaked in mud and he lost the Colonel and the Captain. There’ll be a lot to explain._

“Raise your hands! You are under arrest.”

Roy looked at the soldier in front of him in confusion. Was she speaking to him? Just to be sure, he looked back but there was no one there.

“Are you trying to arrest me?” Roy was so tired that it took too much effort for him to recognize the stripes on soldier’s epaulette. “Sergeant, you should explain yourself.”

He needed this to be over. Everyone in the Southern command hated him just because he was an alchemist – _and – Roy thought to himself – deserved to be hated for what he did in Ishval_ – and this looked like another stunt of these soldiers to demonstrate their distrust. He couldn’t wait when this will be over, and he’ll get a warm dinner all alone at the biggest table in the middle of the cafeteria.

“She doesn’t need to explain anything,” the Colonel Higgins appeared from behind the soldier who was trying to arrest him – Higgins looked beyond exhausted and very pale; he was holding his wounded shoulder. His Captain was there too, holding an umbrella for his Colonel. “It should be obvious to you why you are being arrested.”

The euphoric feeling Roy got when he saw both the Colonel and the Captain safe and sound, back at their own base ( _he didn’t fail them! He didn’t leave them behind!_ ) disappeared the same second. There wasn’t any reason to arrest him now, considering they were both alive and he didn’t leave them behind. Roy didn’t have any mental capacity at the moment to figure out what exactly was going on. So he just looked at the Colonel in confusion but still not surrendering to the soldier who was trying to arrest him.

“ _Your flame alchemy,_ ” the Colonel spat these two words like they were a poison. “ _Accidentally_ stopped working just when we needed you to fight. Before this, you were burning fucking bushes because they were and I quote ‘impenetrable’, and then it just stopped working?”

Roy breathed out in relief. This situation was actually funny, if he gave it a thought.

“Yeah, I mean it’s obvious it wouldn’t work in that situation,” Roy grinned and tried to walk past the soldiers in front of him. He was hastily stopped by the Captain who grabbed his shoulder.

“If you are going back there, then only to the prison until you are court-martialled. Or you can go back to your Aerugians.” The captain said sternly.

“What?” Roy was absolutely confused now. “Stop! What?! You cannot possibly think that I am… I was looking for you two. I was almost killed because you didn’t even bother to tell me that you are leaving without me and now you are trying to arrest me. What the hell?” He tried to shrug the Captain’s hand off his shoulder but didn’t succeed.

The Colonel approached him and stared at him, looking like he was talking to a child.

  
“I said something very unprofessional to you today. I’m sorry though to be fair, you got under my skin with all these comments. But to think that a high-ranking Amestrian officer will allow his fellow officers to be killed… Hell, you even started a gunfight to attract more attention. Me and the Captain were extremely lucky to survive. And now, all you say is that it’s obvious that your flame alchemy would stop working just after I hurt your feelings.”

“You? Hurt my feelings? You are joking, right?” Roy smirked, finally managing to fend off Captain’s grasp on his shoulder. “It’s _flame_ alchemy. It doesn’t work when it’s raining, you idiot.”

A bullet whistled past Roy’s ear the next moment.

“Do you want to be arrested while unconscious? We don’t care personally but you probably won’t like being unconscious in your cell. And I won’t believe for a second that a skilled alchemist like yourself would ever let the weather play a role in whether or not his alchemy works.”

“Seriously, you try starting fire when it rains so much!” Roy tried to say something else but then he looked around, only finding faces of people who never believed him even one bit. They didn’t seem to care about the rain or intricacies of the flame alchemy. And he was so tired – oh, he was so tired, so wet, so exhausted – that he felt that even a prison cell would be better that standing under the rain trying to explain the rain and flame alchemy thing to people who wouldn’t ever believe him.

He didn’t say anything else and just allowed them to handcuff him. He felt humiliated, being led to the prison cell while everyone else saw him, handcuffed and soaked in mud. But what else could he do? He couldn’t resist the arrest; he couldn’t possibly fight his fellow soldiers, and the Colonel didn’t believe that fire doesn’t work that well when it’s raining. _Idiot, how Higgins could even doubt it?_ He tried not to look anyone else in the eyes, thinking that he wouldn’t like how they looked at him. How they’d look at him like he was exactly what they expected him to be.

The cell was small, cold and dark, only with an empty bucket in one of the corners and a dirty-looking mat in another. The sign at the door read ‘Psychiatric ward. Confinement cell 1-B’. No surprises there, this hospital was hardly suited for housing a military prison. Roy barely managed to remove his soaked gloves and lied down on the mat, not even bothering to remove his clothes. They handcuffed him right in his clothes and there was no way to take them off without tearing them apart. The small blanket they gave him didn’t give him even a small warmth. The blanket was just soaked wet the next second. He thought about starting a fire using his gloves but couldn’t think about any way he could do it when they were wet.

“Ironic, huh, f-flame alchemist freezing out because he c-can’t start fire,” he said out loud more out of desperation than to let anyone hear him. He was shivering violently, and even words were coming out broken and desperate.

He thought about the fireplace back home. About his office with central heating, with a couch and a blanket and so much flammable paperwork. About the bar of Madame Christmas with whiskey and girls and fireplaces. About Riza Hawkeye. Just looking at her felt warm. He wanted to fall asleep so badly, but his thoughts were only revolving around sources of warmth and fire, and there was nothing he could do to fall asleep.

Then, the Lieutenant Oliver Savante-Smith appeared with a tray of food.

“Oh, d-do they make the Lieutenants take care of the prisoners now? W-why is that? Or do you w-want to finish what you wanted to d-do in the mountains? Huh, you c-can t-try, they maybe even will give you a p-promotion for that.” Roy knew that his voice didn’t sound as sarcastically as he wished it sounded ( _try sounding sarcastic while shivering, huh_ ). He found it hard to care about that – the Lieutenant being there wasn’t a good sign, as he was the one who tried to kill him back in the mountains when they didn’t even arrive at the hospital yet. Was it going to be his end? He imagined his dead body there, in a cold dark cell, in wet clothes and felt disgust creeping in his throat.

The Lieutenant calmly took off his handcuffs.

“I brought you a change of clothes,” it was true – now, Roy noticed a pile of uniform next to the tray of food. He was somewhat relieved those were not prison clothes.

The Lieutenant waited outside while Roy changed his clothes and ate. They didn’t exchange a single word.

“I will bring you another blanket,” the Lieutenant said, putting the handcuffs back. Now, Roy felt so much better that he didn’t even think that his blanket was wet too.

“Oh, why so much concern for me now, Lieutenant? Do you have a soft spot for people in prison?” Roy was genuinely grinning now, and his voice was steady and without any shiver.

“I had a talk with someone who is very dear to me today. And he seems to be completely assured that you are not the monster I thought you are,” the Lieutenant sighed. “I’m sorry but I will have to take away your gloves.”

Roy’s smile sank. He felt weirdly secure with his gloves and now without them and in alchemy binds, he’d be completely useless. _What if someone else is not as generous as the Lieutenant here and actually tries to kill him?_

The Lieutenant was about to leave when he stopped at the entrance and looked at Roy again.

“You are lucky, actually. They want to send you back with the next evacuation mission, so they could court martial you in the Southern command,” the Lieutenant smiled. “And knowing you’re an alchemist, they won’t punish you anyway. All this does is gives you a chance to live.”

“And then what? At this rate, the hospital will be captured in two days. You won’t be able to hold off anyone longer, given the lack of the ammunition and soldiers. With me, you will only send off your only chance at survival.”

“We don’t expect to survive this mission. You should consider yourself lucky that…”  
“That I was fucking sent away while people are dying there? When I could have helped? Because the idiot Colonel there doesn’t know that you _can’t_ light fire when it’s raining?” Roy vented his frustration at this point but neither him, nor the Lieutenant could have done anything about this situation.

The Lieutenant left without saying anything else. He collected the gloves and his wet uniform.

Roy was absolutely angry and lonely and in disgust at the mere thought of being sent away but somehow, he managed to fall asleep. In the middle of his sleep, he felt a blanket slip on his shoulders. For the first time that day, he felt warm.

-/

Hughes was angrily drawing maps and trying to think about a way to build a tunnel to the hospital while they’d be building the tunnel for an attack at the Aerugians. He was absolutely frustrated that the General didn’t jump at this chance to save his soldiers. Why? Why wouldn’t he agree when he didn’t have anything to lose and everything to gain? Why wouldn’t he think that Roy – the Flame Alchemist, the hero of Ishval – that Roy will be able to hold off the enemy forces for a few days longer if he knew that this will give them a chance to save everyone?

The door slammed behind him, and an unusually dishevelled Riza Hawkeye appeared. She was breathing heavily like she was running all the way to this room. She probably was.

“They arrested him!” she finally managed to say.

“Arrested whom?” though Maes already figured it out.

“Maybe it’s for the better. They want to send him back for the court-martial,” Riza looked at him hopefully. “It’s better than doing this mission, isn’t it?”

Maes knew that his best friend had very deep feelings for Riza but now he understood that the feelings were mutual. She didn’t care if he’d be court-martialled. She didn’t seem to care if he feels guilty about not saving the soldiers at the hospital. She was just hopeful because now she was sure that he wouldn’t die in the near future. Oh, Roy was assuring him that all she cared for was their mission and all she wanted from him was for him to become Fuhrer. But now, Maes knew that she never cared about him being Fuhrer or atoning for Ishval. She just cared for him.

“I doubt they will be able to send him back,” Maes said at last with a sad smile. He knew his friend too well and he knew for sure that Roy Mustang won’t allow them to send him off when so many people needed his protection.

-/

Roy woke up in the middle of the night because of the low growl from outside the hospital.

It was the same sound he heard when he was next to Aerugians. The same, awfully familiar sound.

_Where did he hear it before?_

He was still very tired and cold, and he had a hard time figuring it out.

So instead, he quickly found himself contemplating about how ironic it was that he managed to get arrested when he was an only chance for most of hospital’s patients to survive. _Hardly anyone could pull this off._

The growl got closer. Now, there were also screams of soldiers. It looked like they were attacked. Roy thought about breaking out and helping for a second but decided not to, as Amestrian soldiers would rather kill him than accept his help.

_What was this sound like? He associated it with the snow. Why snow? Maybe it was a sort of alchemy? Was there any freezing alchemy that sounded like this?_

There were gunshots now, and then the whole hospital shook. It was looking extremely more dangerous now. Roy looked around, trying to figure out a way to get rid of his binds.

_Snow. North. Oliver Armstrong. Oh, how she hated that they beat her in the last military drills. Next year, the drills will be in the North._

Roy thought about using his blood for an alchemic array. The gunshots became more intensive.

_Yes, he won’t participate in the next year drills either because he’ll be dead or court-martialled. They didn’t have any chance anyway because the Northern troops perfected their tanks, from what he heard._

Tanks!

This sound was exactly like tanks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter and then realized that it was too big so I decided to split it in two and publish the first part (and add a little bit more drama to the second part :D).

The moment Roy realized that the hospital was under attack by tanks, he felt calm and collected. Unlike all the events of the last days - like practicing earth alchemy, going on a mission without his subordinates or trying to keep Riza from following him, this time, he was in his element. He briefly estimated the number of soldiers remaining in the platoon (about 40), the number of soldiers who could be mobilized at this hour, considering how sudden the attack was (about 35), the existing ammunition problems and the fact that the platoon was in command of one very stupid colonel… Even taking into account that the location of the hospital on the hill played to their advantage, Roy knew for sure that there was very little time left until the hospital will be eventually captured.

He looked around and realized that he may be able to free himself even without any alchemy. The door of his cell was old and rusty, and if he applied enough pressure, he’d be able to free himself. Good that this hospital didn’t have an actual military prison, just a cell to restrain rowdy psychiatric patients.

Speaking of stupid colonels. Roy couldn’t believe that even in this situation, the Colonel didn’t bother to free him. But judging from the chaos outside, the Colonel was extremely bad at organizing the defence lines, so it was not surprising that he didn’t even think of such advanced military strategy as using an alchemist to fight against tanks. In this situation, Roy, being _another_ colonel in the command, had every right to take the command in his hands. Well, not every right, technically. The legal provision on emergency replacement of military commanders worked only in the situations when there was enough evidence that the commander was insane or in any other way incapacitated. And he couldn’t lawfully take the command in his hands, being thrown into prison by the very commander whom he wanted to replace. On the other hand, he itched to do something… And at this point, any orders he’ll give will be better than Colonel’s orders.

After many attempts – so many that Roy was happy that no one saw him, the great Flame Alchemist in a losing fight with a crumbling wooden door – Roy was able to knock the door out of the doorjamb. Having finally succeeded at his prison break, he decided to run to his room on the second floor to pick up his spare pair of gloves. When he reached the hall of the second floor, he tripped over a box on the ground. There were many more boxes chaotically lying around – the local Colonel was apparently very bad at keeping order, both in the defence lines and inside the hospital. Roy got up and started carefully moving around the boxes – he wasn’t in a mood to trip over another box in his alchemic binds. Right in the middle of a heap of boxes he saw a soldier who was frantically searching through them.

“Anyone! Has anyone seen the ammo?” the soldier shouted. The voice was familiar to Roy – this was the exact same soldier who arrested him yesterday. The soldier, noticing that she wasn’t alone anymore, looked at him with wide eyes.

“You… Sir, you are supposed to stay under arrest,” she said, looking exhausted. After a second of hesitation, she pointed a gun at him. “Why are you here?”

Roy sighed. The whole pointing the gun at him routine was getting old.

“No need for this. You said that you’re out of ammo, Sergeant,” he flashed his standard girls-love-me-and-I’m-ready-to-use-it smile. He stopped smiling the same second, suddenly aware of how creepy it must look, in combination with his oversized uniform and alchemic binds.

“Sir, if you want to be evacuated, the evacuation is going on the first floor.”

“’m not going anywhere,” the hospital was hit by yet another projectile. Roy gestured in the direction of the blast and continued. “I can help with that”.

“But Sir, I have orders… I cannot let you walk after you broke out of your cell,” she looked at him with the same hesitation in her eyes.

“If you think that your orders are more important than saving the hospital, then shoot,” he shrugged and moved past her without stopping. This was a gamble, but he bet at her hesitation and did it successfully – she didn’t shoot him. “Good decision, Sergeant. I won’t tell anyone that you saw me,” he added with a note of confidence in his tone.

When he finally reached his room and his gloves, he quickly burned away the wooden parts of his shackles. The metallic bracelets of the shackles remained in place, as he had very little wish to burn himself to remove them. Then, he quickly went down the stairs in the direction of the fight. Outside, he was finally able to see what the fight looked like. If from the sounds of it, he was able to say that the fight was chaotic, then from here… Well, it was as chaotic as he imagined it was. Though to be fair to the Colonel, Higgins was able to organize the defence lines quite successfully and soldiers were holding off the attack. Higgins was in his place as well, commanding the lines. Well, now, in the middle of the attack, was not the best time to insist on a new commander, Roy thought with disdain.

Roy knew a perfect strategy to use against tanks. It wasn’t probably the best strategy, but it was effective – so effective that the drills with the Northern troops last year ended within a day, when the Eastern forces destroyed all the tanks of the Northerners. Needless to say, Olivier Armstrong was extremely unimpressed with the way they won. Of course, she was, considering his strategy in tank warfare was to melt all the tanks with his flame alchemy. She was bickering then about ‘soft’ alchemists who didn’t have it in them to face tanks like manly men. As if there were any other options for his troops when the Northerners brought a tank to their gunfight.

Mentally estimating the distance to the tanks, Roy decided that he will have to move closer to the tanks to hit them with one strong blast. Unlike fighting with actual people, using flame alchemy against tanks was more difficult, as he had to hit the tanks with the strongest fire in his arsenal – so strong that the metal of tanks will melt. When he created controlled blasts, his fires were getting weaker, not stronger at the distance, so he had to move closer unless he wanted to risk hurting everyone around with an uncontrolled blast. Having made the decision, he moved around the rows of Amestrian soldiers in the direction of Higgins. He needed Higgins to stop the gunfight until he safely reaches the tanks and attacks them.

Higgins was ordering his men around, shouting orders and overall looking extremely busy.

“Mustang?” He said when Roy approached him, clearly surprised. Then, his look changed to convey his amusement. “Interesting how your flame alchemy starts working when you want to escape from an unsafe prison, Mustang. Now, the evacuation is in another part of the building. They will take you if…” the Colonel gestured at the metallic bracelets on his hands, remnants of his alchemic stocks. “If you show them your hands. If you are lucky, Aerugians won’t seize the hospital before you leave for the mountains.”

Colonel Higgins moved around, indicating that the conversation was over and started shouting new orders at his soldiers. “Keep the line intact! Shoot at soldiers, not at tanks!”

“Both you and I know that no one will reach the mountains before the hospital will be seized.” Roy grabbed Higgins by the shoulders. “I’m here to help.”

“Let me go!” Higgins hissed when Roy accidentally pressed his injured shoulder. Then, he looked at Roy carefully. “And what exactly you can do, _young man_?” Higgins emphasized the last words to show their age difference (not that he was that older, in Roy’s opinion – there was maximum 10 or 15 years difference – not something to make the fuss over). “Annoy them into stopping the attack? Steal their girlfriends?” Higgins added, sounding satisfied with himself.

Roy was extremely annoyed. This wasn’t the time for their personal stuff. Not that there was ever time for him to discuss stealing the girlfriend thing with Higgins in the first place.

“You’ll order your soldiers to stop shooting until I reach the tree there,” Roy pointed at the big red tree below, the only remaining tree in the area. “Then, I will destroy the tanks with my alchemy. When the tanks stop moving and shooting, you will order your soldiers to advance from the Eastern side,” he pointed at the road which was conveniently placed in the shadows. Higgins wanted to say something – probably about Roy ordering around and stuff but Roy didn’t give him an opportunity to. “You’ll do this because there are no other options, Colonel. See you in half an hour,” he added with a smirk.

He took the same road he was pointing at before, the one in the shadows. He knew that it was hard to see him from there. He was also satisfied that the Colonel followed his order and stopped the gunfight. A few minutes later, he heard steps behind him. He turned around, ready to snap, and trying to figure out who it was. A disadvantage of being in a place where no one could see him because of shadows was that he couldn’t see very well himself.

An automail hand quickly grabbed his fingers. He tried to free himself and then recognized the person whom the hand belonged to. Two automail hands, tall build and the déjà vu feeling from when something like this happened before. This was the Lieutenant Oliver Savante-Smith.

“Lieutenant?” Only now he noticed that the Lieutenant was not alone, and there were 6 other soldiers behind him. All were looking as fierce as the Lieutenant.

“We heard about your plan. We’ll cover for you,” the Lieutenant said in a hushed tone.

Roy didn’t like other people risking their lives to protect him but at the same time, if he didn’t succeed, they will be as good as dead anyway. So he decided to go along with it.

“All right, then move to the side,” he spent a minute building his little group in a diamond-like formation and quickly explaining his plan to them. He liked his soldiers to be informed about the mission, and as for the formation, the diamond shape allowed them to see everything around them and ensured the survival of most people in the group if they were attacked. He placed himself in the front, in case he had to use his alchemy against the enemy. They moved further, and there seemed to be no one attacking them.

“Be careful,” he added at last. “We need you all to survive so that we can defend the hospital after this attack is over.” He didn’t add that he needed them to survive because as a commander he was absolutely terrible at handling losing the subordinates. Once one of his subordinates caught a very bad flue from a mission, and Roy couldn’t get over it for a week. If any of his subordinates actually died on him, he had hard time sleeping for way too long. He thought that he’d be handling it better as a colonel, when there were so many soldiers under his command, but just recently he realized that it wasn’t about his rank or his age; he was just too attached to people around him to feel anything else if they died.

“Lieutenant, did Colonel Higgins send you to me?” Roy asked though he was pretty sure that this was the decision of the Colonel. Higgins may have come to his senses, after all.

“No, Sir. We decided to move on our own. There’s not so much we could do staying behind anyway.”

Roy frowned. Higgins was an idiot but in the long run, soldiers doing what they want without orders was bad for defending the hospital after this attack. But hey, he was not the one to complain after he practically forced the colonel to stop the gunfight by acting against orders.

They reached their destination relatively easily and without any confrontation with the enemy forces. Roy almost believed that he was lucky today. Almost, because the same moment, he heard someone shouting in Aerugian very, very closely. Roy squinted and looked in the direction of Aerugians but couldn’t discern anything besides a few blurry figures. It was too dark for him to see anything. He decided to attack these soldiers anyway – just in case, and when he was about to snap, the Lieutenant quickly grabbed him by the hands and practically dragged him along. The Lieutenant stopped only when they reached their trenches, now entirely abandoned, after the Amestrian forces had to back off under the attack by tanks. Roy looked back and saw that the place he was standing in just a few seconds before was hit by a cannon blast – and from an entirely different direction than the one he was aiming at with his alchemy. Oh, so the Lieutenant saved his life, then? He felt something wet tricking down his chin. He looked around confused, trying to figure out if he was hit after all. But he wasn’t. The Lieutenant’s forehead was bleeding.

“Lieutenant!” Roy frantically freed himself from Lieutenant’s grasp and tried to place the Lieutenant on the ground though to his frustration, the Lieutenant didn’t allow him to, and remained standing where he was. “You were hit,” Roy looked around and saw other soldiers reaching the trench. There were only three of them.

“’m fine,” the Lieutenant grumbled. “Can you hit the tanks from there?”

Roy collected himself and tried not to think that there were 6 other soldiers in their group, not three. That he was so inept as a commander that he lost 3 soldiers even before he was at his destination. These were the thoughts for later. He looked up and tried to establish a clear line of sight at the tanks. He was closer to the tanks but couldn’t see them clearly from there. They were also approached by additional Aerugian soldiers who obscured his vision of tanks.

“I need to move closer,” Roy admitted. “I want to hit all tanks at once.” Hitting all tanks at once was the best solution. Once he snaps, he will give away his location to the enemy forces, so he had to make the best use of the first chance he had. Besides, blasting the tanks with a very strong explosion – to reach the temperatures ten times higher than his usual blasts – required a lot of focus, and he wouldn’t have a chance to focus like this if he was attacked by the enemy.

“I see,” the Lieutenant said something to other soldiers in his little group and they nodded. Roy looked around, trying to find a way to move closer to the tanks. The Lieutenant continued: “We’ll distract the soldiers, and you will have to move to the shadows, and then run to the next circle of trenches. From there, you will be able to walk closer to the tanks inside the third trench.”

“No way! You are all going to get killed. There are other options,” Roy tried to physically stop the Lieutenant from attacking the soldiers approaching them. He thought that if he snaps and kills them, it won’t be so bad after all. Yes, the enemy soldiers will learn about his location and his alchemy, and it was going to get immensely more dangerous for Roy, but it was better than losing yet other soldiers who wanted to protect him.

“’s an only option,” the Lieutenant said firmly, easily overpowering Roy’s grip and launching into attack at the enemy soldiers. Other soldiers in their group did the same.

Roy looked at the fight wide-eyed but then reminded himself that now the only option for him was to actually move to another circle of trenches unless he wanted to make Lieutenant’s sacrifice worthless. It worked just as well as the Lieutenant suggested it would – he moved in the shadows, reached the other trenches in a few minutes and unnoticed, moved in the trenches in the direction of tanks and stood there, finally having a clear sight at all the tanks around him. He looked back and saw that the Lieutenant’s fight was already over. He had to make their sacrifice worth it. Now, one snap and he’ll stop this whole madness and they’ll move back to their nice _trench_ warfare arrangement with the Aerugians.

He made all necessary alchemic calculations and started manipulating the air surrounding the tanks. He needed the blast to be extremely strong next to the tanks, but he didn’t want to kill anyone unless it was necessary – he could hit their own soldiers in this darkness with an uncontrolled blast for all he knew. So he carefully manipulated the insane amount of hydrogen and oxygen in the air around the tanks, placed a nitrogen layer around the hydrogen so that the blast won’t kill anyone else, and snapped.

The next second, all tanks around him caught on fire. The heat was so intense that he could feel it from where he stood, and he was sure that every tank in the area was melted quite badly. He could hear soldiers screaming and he hoped that those were not the Amestrian soldiers. The next thing he usually sensed after making such a horribly big blast in a fight was the scent… He paused and tried to even his breathing and not to focus on the scent. The anticipation of smelling burning flesh alone was always bringing him on the verge of a panic attack. Especially now, when he felt like he was done with his mission of protecting others for today. Especially now when soldiers in his group were probably dead. Roy bumped his fist in the wall of the trench in frustration. They weren’t even supposed to follow him. He allowed them. And now, they were most likely dead. Another bunch to add to his unimaginably high body count.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard someone screaming nearby. Did he hit someone? Was someone burning? This moment, he realized that it indeed _didn’t_ smell like the burned flesh. He looked at the tanks once again and confirmed for himself that they were melted for good. The enemy soldiers were confused and in panic, and the Amestrians were closing in, easily capturing the ones who were not able to flee. This looked like a win for the Amestrians.

Then, Roy saw an Aerugian soldier jumping in his trench – he was the one who was screaming. Roy was for once happy for a distraction. Roy easily tackled him and sat on top of him, trying to figure out a way to restrain him for the time being. He got a glimpse at the face of his captive and with a sudden surge of emotions realized that his captive was very young. Even younger than Ed. But unlike Ed would be in this situation, he also looked scared. His uniform though confirmed that he was an enemy soldier. Roy decided that it wasn’t the time or place for him to be sentimental and he started drawing an array to tie his captive up with the ground.

“Sir,” his captive had a young boyish voice and a hint of an Aerugian accent. “Please, let me go,” the boy was now struggling frantically. Roy felt once again like he was in Ishval, following the unthinkable orders and killing innocent people. But this wasn’t like Ishval, he said to himself. This was an enemy combatant and who cares that Aerugians recruit young boys. They attacked first and they had guns and tanks.

“Don’t worry, soldier. They will probably exchange you for our prisoners of war. You’ll just spend a month outside the war zone,” Roy tried to sound reassuring. Now, his makeshift restraints were ready, and the boy knew that there was no way for him to struggle out of this.

“No, they won’t!” The boy was sounding desperate now. “Please, Sir! They kill everyone they capture, you know about this. Please, Sir.”

Roy frowned. This was a bad rumour in a war. You wouldn’t want the enemy soldiers to think that everyone who gets captured ends up killed. This was a sure way for every battle to turn into a bloodbath, as the enemy soldiers would be fiercely set on not giving up. And now, he had to spend the next minutes in a trench with a frantic boy who was sure he was being sent to his death.

“Please, Sir. They experiment on captives! I’ve heard that one soldier ran away from Amestrians, and then he turned into a wolf and killed everyone in his family,” the boy was crying now. “I don’t want to hurt my mum and my sister, please,” he was still frantically struggling against his binds.

Roy suppressed a smile. This soldier was very young, after all, if he believed in urban legends like these.

“It’s impossible to turn a human into a wolf,” he said with a shrug. “I’m an alchemist and I know for sure that biological alchemy is rudimentary at best.” He didn’t know why but he wanted to reassure this boy that everything’s going to be fine.

The boy didn’t stop struggling.

“I will tell you everything,” the boy stopped, trying to collect his breathing. “I saw them taking the soldiers captive. This big soldier with metallic hands.”

Now, it captured Roy’s attention. Then the Lieutenant wasn’t dead?  
“Please, I will show you how to reach them! They couldn’t have returned to our base yet.”

But Roy didn’t listen to him. He knew how to reach the Aerugian base, and he could easily figure out the path of retreating forces to reach their base. It was worth a try. He will catch up with the retreating forces and see if his soldiers are there. He won’t engage in an unnecessary fight and he won’t risk his life, right? He had to do his best to save his soldiers.

He looked once again at the boy in front of him and alchemized the binds so that the boy was more comfortable. He placed his hands on boy’s shoulder, firmly, to stop the boy from shaking.

“I will leave you there. Don’t worry, I will personally see to it that you will not be killed or…” Roy smiled warmly. “Turned into a wolf. I promise.”

Then, he left the boy behind and something in his heart clenched when he heard the boy sobbing. This boy needed his protection like Ed, yet this boy wasn’t anything like Ed. It didn’t stop Roy from thinking about Ed and his research in the back of his mind. Roy was doing a very selfish thing, after all. He was leaving Ed behind, probably under command of another officer who wouldn’t care about Ed’s philosophical stone research. He didn’t make any plans for Ed to be under a good commander or maybe for Ed to leave the military – though he should have when he volunteered for this mission. Now, he gave a promise to this young soldier without having any means to fulfil his promise. Well, he was a monster who killed so many innocent people in the Ishval. Breaking his promises and not taking proper care of his subordinate was just what he was supposed to do, wasn’t it?

-/

“Why? Why is there a sleeping technique which has been passed down the Armstrong family line for generations?” Fuery asked in frustration, while counting 3675 cenz – all his holiday pay – and giving it to Havoc. Havoc won the bet for the next thing that “has been passed down the Armstrong family line for generations” and was quite satisfied with himself. Fuery, for instance, was betting at “lifting things technique” but his choice was so obvious that no one in their group felt bad for him losing.

“What I’m supposed to do now, my salary isn’t as big as yours… I won’t have any money to even buy food,” Fuery continued complaining.

“Just suck up to your loss and stop complaining,” Breda said, looking very sour – well, he also lost the bet, since he bet at “flirting techniques” or anything having to do with hitting at girls. Now, though he was cursing at himself mentally. There wasn’t any way any Armstrongs had a chance with women, with their quirks. Well, besides Olivier. Olivier would probably get any women she wanted if she wanted (and the rumours told that she indeed wanted).

“Did you finish all your tasks?” Hughes appeared in the cave, holding a sleeping bag and a torch.

After Hughes realized that there was no way to build the tunnel to the hospital while building the tunnel to another place for a secret attack at Aerugians – like the General wanted – he moved to the Plan B. In this case, Plan B referred to starting building the tunnel without any help from the General. This wasn’t an ideal situation. In this situation, they didn’t have an opportunity to tell Roy about the tunnel, and now, they were afraid that the hospital won’t hold for 4 days, with Roy not knowing about their plan. Another issue with the Plan B was that they were acting without the permission from local authorities and needed to sneak all their provisions inside the caves without anyone noticing – which took the good half of the day before. But they needed to set up the place for Armstrong to work in. They brought torches, surveyed the area for the good openings to start the tunnel, and were already in a place they deemed best for the tunnel. Their estimations were right, they only needed to build 2 miles of tunnels from there. From tomorrow, they will start the hard work. They prepared a place to put away the remaining rubble, brought the carts to move the rubble around, the above mentioned torches, prepared the rations for everyone in the team, and after the end of the day, Mustang’s team was in the mood for their constant bets. Apparently, they had a bet on how many photos Maes will show, and then they were all around Hughes, trying to convince him to show more photos. Funny enough, no one bet at the actual outcome – no photos. Maes was so frustrated with the situation his best friend was in, that he was in no mood to show photos to anyone.

“Let’s sleep, guys,” he said, and then, catching glimpse at Hawkeye who entered the room just now, he added: “… and gals. We have a long day ahead.”

Maes woke up in the middle of the night when Riza snook out of their cave. She used the exit that Armstrong built the day before. Maes didn’t want to follow but they agreed that if anyone ventures outside, they will have to go in pairs. Even if the exit out of the cave was as inconspicuous as it could be, they still were technically in the enemy territory. Being outside was straight-out dangerous.

Outside, Maes heard strange sounds. They were quite distant, but he could still hear blasts – like little explosions or thunder. He found Riza outside, standing there and looking at something distant. He followed her gaze. There, on the hill – probably, Fostet hospital - there were flares of a battle. It looked quite fierce, and if they could hear it from there, then at least one side there had cannons. Or something worse. He knew that his friend was somewhere there, small and unreachable but he was there. For a second, his heart clenched, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that they will be too late. That they won’t be able to save Roy.

“I’m a terrible person,” Riza said at last, looking at him sincerely. “All I can think now is that it’d be better if Ed went on this mission instead of Roy. How could I even think about this?”

Maes smiled warmly, looking at Riza’s pale face in the flashes of the distant battle. It was good that she was trusting his emotions to him – something she rarely did.

“You’re not a terrible person, Riza,” Maes said an obvious thing – but something about both Roy and Riza was that they were not able to believe in nice things about themselves. “You don’t really want Ed on this mission. Even if Roy did a stupid thing once again, you think that he made an honourable decision. I know, he told me that he asked you to watch if he strives from his path.”

“I know and I wouldn’t want Roy to be a person who sends Ed on missions like this. But why didn’t he even try to talk to me before leaving? We’d find a solution together like we always do but he just doesn’t trust us to help him.”

“You know that he trusts you and the team with everything he has,” Maes started but he was interrupted. Something about seeing the place where the person she loved was being bombarded by cannons, made Riza more emotional than usual.

“He asked the General to imprison me in case I follow him. If you call this trust, then you’re surely mistaken.”

“Roy is blinded when he thinks that his subordinates are in danger. You know that. He knows that you all could have helped or could have followed him but he never wants anyone in danger,” Maes tried to sound warm and understanding but he was also very frustrated with Roy’s decisions lately, so he still sounded a bit angry. “Remember the time when Roy got in a fist fight in a bar because he was drinking himself into unconsciousness after that private caught a _cold_ during a mission? He also sent at least _two_ letters with suggestions to provide the units with more warm clothes to the higher-ups. You know how he is.”

Riza smiled. Finally!

“To be fair, that private was in the hospital with pneumonia for months. He almost got discharged. And he was hit with water because the insurgents learned about Roy’s alchemy and tried to soak us all with water. But point taken, he’s worrying unnecessarily. But…” Riza sighed and looked at him like she was hesitating whether to share her thoughts or not. “Sometimes I think he’s got a death wish. You don’t leave for a mission like this without considering any options – and there were options...” she gestured at the cave behind them. “…unless you want to die.”

Maes wanted to deny this thought the same minute but he couldn’t. It wasn’t just a thought – he knew for sure, that Roy’s self-sacrifice was close to a death wish. If they didn’t have a plan for Roy to become a Fuhrer, Maes wasn’t sure whether his friend would still be alive. This was a dark thought and he decided to put it away for later. He needed to talk to his friend when they save him. And then again and again until Roy stops doing something so stupid.

“You know he’s trying to keep himself in check. It may be not enough after all, but he’s trying. He’s not there because of his death wish, he just wanted to keep Ed safe. You know how he can’t think of anything else once Ed or Al are involved. He’ll do his best to survive.”

Just this second, large flames erupted in Fostet. They were beautiful and Maes could easily imagine how effective his best friend’s alchemy was. The flames dimmed away as easily as they emerged – a good sign for Maes because if Roy were hit, the flames would not disappear as easily, they’d just become uncontrollable.

He looked at Riza and there was hope in her eyes once again. They didn’t exchange words for a few more minutes, trying to find out if whatever Roy did worked. It seemed to work, as there were no more cannon blasts.

“See!” Maes gestured in the direction where there were flames. “I’m telling you, he’s fighting with all he’s got. I’m sure he’s doing his best to stay safe.”


	6. Chapter 6

The Aerugians were retreating in panic, chaotically. It was the first time they encountered flame alchemy, and they were terrified of the power so strong it could melt the metal of tanks. Especially because it felt like the fires appeared from nowhere and disappeared to nowhere. In this chaos, no one noticed an Amestrian soldier following them from the shadows. Roy was moving carefully, trying not to get noticed by anyone but at the same time, he felt powerful enough to fight as many people at once as was needed. He rarely allowed himself to feel _satisfied_ with his flame alchemy but this time, the satisfaction felt entirely deserved. All it took Roy to save so many people today, was a single snap. The patients at the hospital who were not yet evacuated, hospital staff, soldiers – all of them were alive because his alchemy was powerful, and he mastered it so well. Now, he was on the path to return the soldiers from captivity. Even if today he ended up burning everyone in the enemy army to ashes, he’d do a _righteous_ thing because he’d save his subordinates.

Roy stopped, noticing a group of soldiers standing somewhat separate from the retreating army, on the road leading down the hill. They were loading a cannon into a truck. This was exactly what he was looking for – he knew that if Aerugians actually captured any Amestrian soldiers today, then they will transport them in a vehicle rather than escort them on foot. He moved closer to the group and saw that there was indeed one prisoner among the soldiers. The prisoner was kneeling, with his head lowered and hands restrained. Prisoner’s hands were metallic. Roy smiled inwardly. He found the Lieutenant and with luck, will find all other soldiers.

Roy hid behind a bush, deciding to spend a few minutes examining the situation and developing a plan for the attack. He noticed that the Lieutenant was injured quite badly. There was a nasty looking gash on his head, and his gaze was unfocused – a tell-tale sign of a concussion. Well, if the Lieutenant wasn’t concussed, he’d have used his automail arms to free himself some time ago already.

“Move! Move you Amestrian filch,” one of the soldiers shouted, trying to get the Lieutenant to stand. When he didn’t get any response, he kicked the Lieutenant so forcefully, that the Lieutenant fell, awkwardly, hitting his head once again.

Roy felt his blood boil. These Aerugians were unnecessarily cruel to someone who was already restrained and injured. There was no point in hiding anymore – he needed to save the Lieutenant before they injured him even further. He focused on the guns in hands of the soldiers, snapped, and the same second, all guns of soldiers in this group were too hot to touch.

Deeming the soldiers in this group to be of no danger to him without their guns, Roy left his hiding place and walked directly to them. He held one of his hands in his pocket, but another – raised, ready to snap.

“My my my,” he grinned darkly, looking at the motionless body of the Lieutenant next to the trucks. “I believe you have taken someone who you were not supposed to. Well, it happens when you retreat in such panic.”

He snapped again, sending a fire ball in the direction of the soldier who hit the Lieutenant. The soldier fell, wailing in agony, trying to put off the fires on his burning clothes. Roy felt a tinge of satisfaction growing in his chest once again. The soldier _deserved_ to be burned for hitting the defenceless Lieutenant. Besides, Roy was planning to injure everyone in this group so that Amestrians will take them captive. The more soldiers he captured or killed now, the easier it will be to defend the hospital further on. Speaking of which… Roy saw that some soldiers from this group were leaving in panic, seeing how they cannot use their guns and how confidently Roy was walking towards the Lieutenant. Roy didn’t want this to happen. If any of the soldiers left, they would notify the rest of the army, and it’d be immensely more difficult for Roy to free all the captives.

So he snapped again, creating a ring of fire around the truck and the group of soldiers. No one was going to leave now.

“Stop!” Roy turned in the direction of the voice and saw that an Aerugian soldier was holding a knife next to the Lieutenant’s neck. “Retreat now or I will kill him,” he said with a heavy Aerugian accent.

“And why shouldn’t _I_ just kill all of you?” Roy said, gesturing at the fires surrounding the place. He knew that they were in a lose-lose situation at that. He could kill everyone there, yet the Aerugian’s knife would be faster than his fires. In the worst situation, he’d be an only survivor there, and his mission of saving the captives would be unsuccessful. Yet he also knew that the Aerugian wouldn’t want him killing anyone, so he hoped that he’d be able to negotiate his way out of this.

“If you kill anyone there, we will kill other Aerugian captives. There are 10 more Aerugian captives.”

Roy felt anger rising in his chest once again, even stronger than when he saw another Aerugian hitting the Lieutenant. He hated being threatened, and he hated it even more when someone threatened _his_ subordinates. Soldiers who were captured defending him. So he decided to employ a new strategy instead of negotiations – he will melt the knife in the hands of the Aerugian. All he needed was a little distraction so that the Aerugian won’t kill the Lieutenant the moment he snaps, before the fire reaches the knife.

“We captured a lot of yours too. If you kill your captives, we’ll kill ours.” 

“Oh, you are new there, aren’t you?” The Aerugian with the knife looked somewhat amused now. “What next, are you going to negotiate the exchange of prisoners now?”

“I thought this is the next stage, isn’t it? You capture our soldiers, we capture yours, we try to extract the information and then we just exchange them. This is exactly how it’s done.” Roy was manipulating the air around, slightly concentrating oxygen in the atmosphere. He wanted the final stroke to be fast and smooth but for now, he needed to be patient so that the Aerugian won’t notice his alchemy.

“You must be at least a major, right? I’ve heard that all Amestrian alchemists get a rank of major in the military,” the Aerugian said, and somehow, his voice sounded hopeful. “I’m a major too. So what if we negotiate the exchange right now?”

 _Negotiations?_ Roy felt his concentration on alchemy dwindling – how dare this Aerugian suggest something so civil when he was trying to kill his subordinate? How dare he think that Roy would negotiate anything there, in the dark, informally, behind everyone’s back, like some kind of filthy traitor? The Aerugian who held the knife looked at him, scared. Roy knew why – his gaze was probably straight-out murderous. Maes told him once that he felt terrified of his gaze during one of their joint operations, when an insurgent injured Fuery, and Roy felt as enraged. Well, he _wanted_ and he _could_ kill every Aerugian around him if they continue threatening his subordinates. Roy clenched his fists and focused on something he really liked when he was enraged. Hydrogen. Hydrogen was good for burning things. Setting hydrogen on fire would melt anything… Hydrogen will turn this Aerugian and his little knife into nothing the second he snaps.

“Forgive me for trying but in my 20 years of fighting this war, you’re the first Amestrian who suggested that we exchange the prisoners,” the Aerugian continued, and then he felt the air disappearing around him. “If you… kill me…. there … won’t be…. any nego… tia…tions.” The Aerugian was struggling and couldn’t say his words clearly because – as Roy just realized – Roy concentrated so much hydrogen around him that he was struggling to breath. Roy forcefully stopped himself from snapping. It took him all his concentration, but the truth was that he was indeed new there, and he couldn’t kill anyone before extracting all information he’d be able to use later. He’ll judge whether there was any useful information later. And, he assured himself, there was always time to kill these people.

“And why there won’t be any negotiations if I kill you?”

Roy dispelled the pocket of hydrogen around the Aerugian to hear the answer.

“It’s simple. There are no established negotiation channels. You Amestrians refuse to negotiate anything with us. We send the list of captives to your Fuhrer and Southern generals but there is never an answer.”

Roy smiled. This Aerugian was taking him for a fool. Like there could be no negotiation channels between two countries who were at war for the last 20 years. Besides, exchanging the prisoners was beneficial for both sides. Why wouldn’t there be exchanges of prisoners? So, back to his favourite hydrogen, then. He focused on the air once again, feeling _satisfied_ about being able to revenge the person who was threatening his subordinate. By the way, what if he pinpoints the blast, and starts with his fingers? And then the hands? And then he’ll kill the Aerugian after he’ll feel enough pain.

This moment, the Lieutenant started waking up. He looked around, disoriented, not noticing the knife at first. He’d injured himself with the knife at his neck, but the Aerugian shifted the knife slightly, moving it further from Lieutenant’s neck. This little gesture somehow crushed Roy’s willingness to torture the Aerugian. Now, the Aerugian didn’t look as threatening as he did before, as he clearly cared about not accidentally killing the Lieutenant. Roy forced himself to snap out of his rage. Now, with the Lieutenant moving instead of being motionless, he had to be careful not to hit him with flames. He also needed to let the Lieutenant know about his presence there.

“Lieutenant, are you okay?” Roy noticed the Lieutenant following him with his gaze. Good, then the concussion wasn’t as bad as it looked. He decided to ask something to check Lieutenant’s consciousness. “You were captured by the Aerugians. This guy there wants to negotiate exchange of captives with me and thinks the knife at your neck is the best way to do this.”

The Lieutenant stiffened, fully aware of his surroundings now. Then, he looked at Roy darkly.

“Why are you here? We don’t negotiate exchange of captives. Ever. You’re not supposed to negotiate my release either. Consider me dead.”

This was aware enough to Roy. He snapped, focusing on the knife in hands of the Aerugian, and the next second, the knife was melted for good but the Aerugian managed to get rid of it before he was injured himself. Roy ran to the Lieutenant, helping him to stand up.

“Lieutenant, do you know where other soldiers from your group are?”

The Lieutenant frowned.

“I saw them being loaded in two other trucks. But just as I said, you are not supposed to negotiate their release. The hell are you doing here? It’s against the orders.”

Roy didn’t like this answer in the slightest. What did the Lieutenant mean by not negotiating? Surely, there had to be some ways to exchange prisoners. Besides, the soldiers were in other trucks, and there were no other trucks around. Does that mean that they were already transported to the Aerugian base? However powerful Roy felt today, there was no way he could save them from inside the Aerugian base. The Aerugian next to him stood up. Now, without his knife, the Aerugian didn’t have any weapons.

“Amestrian, I was serious about negotiating the exchange,” the Aerugian said at last. “You seem to think that exchanging the prisoners is a natural thing to do. So do I. Why don’t we negotiate right now?”

“You’re saying this because you don’t see any other ways to survive.” Roy managed to free Lieutenant’s hands with a quick snap in the meantime. Now, they had both, his alchemy and Lieutenant’s automail to use in this fight. It’ll be quick.

“Hell, we are not negotiating anything with the Aerugians, you swine,” the Lieutenant growled. “We consider all soldiers who get captured dead anyway. Why would we want to negotiate the exchange of dead people?”

But the Aerugian didn’t even look at the Lieutenant. He still was addressing Roy.

“You clearly care about your subordinates,” the Aerugian looked Roy directly in the eyes, defiant. “Now, I care too. I care a lot. Today, I’ve heard my youngest subordinate asking for help, but I couldn’t return to help him. I left him there, in an Amestrian trench,” Roy shifted around uncomfortably because he knew whom the Aerugian was talking about. “And I know he volunteered because the Amestrians destroyed his village a while ago. And I think he lied about his age, but the army takes anyone who can hold the gun. I don’t want him to get killed. I don’t want any of my soldiers to get killed. And you clearly don’t want your soldiers to die. I’ll hold my end of any deal we negotiate now. But if you walk away now, there won’t be any way for you to save your soldiers.”

“Don’t listen to him, Colonel, Sir,” the Lieutenant said, holding his automail arms aimed at the Aerugian. “They are my subordinates too, and I won’t ever dream of going against the orders to bring them back. There won’t be any negotiations. Ever. I’m not betraying my country to bring a few people from captivity.”

Roy stopped, looking at the Lieutenant in surprise. He knew from his own experience that orders weren’t the most important thing in the army. People were. You were not supposed to leave people die because of some useless orders. Hell, orders often didn’t make any sense. They were often ordered to kill the enemy when there were ways not to kill. They were ordered to kill everyone in Ishval, yet there were ways to stop the war without killing so many people. And the thing was, Roy didn’t have to follow the order he wasn’t given. Especially a stupid order like this. In the big picture, capturing 7 Aerugian soldiers won’t help them defend the hospital any longer. However, if there was even a small chance to save his soldiers, then why not? Why not bring more people home safely? He lowered his hand, and looked at the Aerugian firmly.

“Tomorrow, at 11 straight, we’ll have a ceasefire and the exchange in the field between the trenches,” Roy started. “If you bring less than 10 soldiers, if at least one bullet will be fired… If they will be injured while captive or in any other way distressed, then the deal will be over the same moment,” the Aerugian looked at him like he couldn’t believe in what was happening. “To confirm that the deal takes place, you’ll broadcast a radio signal with words ‘King’s gambit accepted’ in a frequency which we could access.”

The Aerugian briefly discussed something with another soldier. Then, he nodded.

“My subordinate said that we have a frequency available at 18.168 Megahertz. Look for our signal. We expect a repeat of our signal in response.” Then, he lent his hand for what looked like a handshake. “You’ll bring every soldier you captured today or it’ll be over,” the Aerugian parroted him. “I take my words seriously, alchemist. I hope you do too.”

Roy hesitated for a second but then he shook the hand of the Aerugian, under an astonished gaze of the Lieutenant. He didn’t intercept when the Aerugians were leaving, and he didn’t allow the Lieutenant to do anything either. Then, he wordlessly gestured the Lieutenant to follow him.

The Lieutenant was looking enraged, and he didn’t allow Roy to help him walk, so they were walking in the direction of the hospital slowly. Finally, it looked like the Lieutenant’s patience thinned down.

“I couldn’t believe it!” the Lieutenant said furiously. “This looked like buying drugs in school’s backyard, not negotiations to exchange prisoners! Hell, I never took you for a naïve type, Colonel.”

“I never took you for a type to buy drugs in school either,” Roy smiled in response. “I said it, so we don’t engage in a fight”, he lied, employing the fact that the Lieutenant wasn’t aware that he heated all the guns of these soldiers. “It’d be dangerous for us if they started shooting.”

He, himself, wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to the deal. In the hindsight, this was a classical prisoner’s dilemma situation. In the worst scenario, if the Aerugian killed the Lieutenant and he killed every soldier in this little group, no one would get anything good out of it. All captives would be dead. Now, in the best-case scenario, they’d exchange the captives, and no one got killed in their little fight. The problem with the best-case scenario, however, was that both sides had to hold their end of the deal. Roy wasn’t sure if he was ready to trust the Aerugians enough to allow the ceasefire. Yet at the same time, both sides would win from the exchange of captives, so there was a reason to believe that Aerugians will hold their part of the deal.

“Why the hell were you there in the first place?” the Lieutenant continued. “You are perfectly aware that you’re an only alchemist here, and we need you. Why did you follow them? Please, don’t tell me that you wanted to save me.”

Roy didn’t say anything in response. Telling that he actually _cared_ about a person he met just a few days ago was straight-out embarrassing. Especially considering the Lieutenant was ready to kill him just a few days ago. They walked back to the hospital in silence, the Lieutenant looking thoughtful and Roy calming himself down from the heat of the rage.

In the hospital, the atmosphere was straight-out celebratory. Soldiers somehow found wine – and from looks of it, lots of it – and were drinking right in the yard of the hospital. There were some soldiers who were still sombrely patrolling the trenches, but the vast majority of soldiers and the hospital personnel were happily drinking and celebrating only like people who narrowly escaped death could.

“This farmer had a ton of wine! Let’s all drink or no one else will ever drink it!” one soldier shouted, looking quite drunk himself.

“So I told him ‘I cannot let you walk after you broke out of your cell’ and he was like ‘I will save everyone’ and I’m telling you he hundred percent liked me!” another soldier was telling. When she saw Roy just behind her, she blushed, stomped on the ground and then… started clapping. The next second, everyone in the hospital – soldiers, doctors, nurses, patients who were able to join the celebrations – everyone was clapping.

Roy grinned smugly, embracing the atmosphere of being admired by everyone around. After all, he was a hero who saved everyone here, wasn’t he? But then, he heard shouting nearby – it was the voice of the child-soldier he captured today. The boy sounded frantically once again.

“No, please, no! Let me go! Let me go!”

Roy decided to go in the direction of the voice – it couldn’t be that bad, could it? The boy was too easily scared for someone who volunteered for the army. But then, there were such terrible rumours flying around, that it was not surprising that the boy felt so threatened. The boy probably was imagining that he was about to turn into a wolf.

But when Roy turned around the corner of the hospital’s backyard, he stopped, stunned. The Aerugian captives were there, tied, in black bags on their heads and on their knees. Behind them, there were soldiers, with their guns ready and aimed at captives. This looked like a firing squad. But it couldn’t be, could it? Why would the Colonel kill all the captives before even having a chance to negotiate their exchange?

“Stop this!” Roy shouted and then walked right in front of soldiers to the colonel. “Explain yourself, Higgins. What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Mustang?” The Colonel looked a bit surprised by the question, but he gestured the soldiers to stop. “Did you like standing in front of the tanks today? Or why are you walking in front of the firing squad? Is this some kind of amusement park to you?”

One of the captives looked behind, trying to see through the bag, and then, apparently seeing what he wanted to see, he started crying in his high boyish voice: “Sir, you said… You said… Please, stop them. Please, I don’t want to die… Please.”

Higgins smiled at Roy.

“Oh, so you promised something to this captive of yours, didn’t you? Nice way of restraining the prisoners, by the way – with the ground and stuff. It doesn’t matter to me if you have fun with him before the firing squad though it’s a bit perverse if you ask me,” he added with a sigh. “Everything for our hero!” And Higgins started clapping, albeit sarcastically over-exaggerated.

Roy felt furious. So it was true, Amestrians were not exchanging the prisoners, they were killing them… He remembered how he was ordered to kill the captives in Isvhal, and since then, he couldn’t bear a thought of killing another person who couldn’t defend themselves. This was exactly how the genocide started. The soldiers were ordered to retaliate with fire to anything, they were not allowed to negotiate with the Ishvallans, and they killed all the captives. The women and children were next. But in the big picture of things, it didn’t really matter if they were firing at women or children or soldiers who didn’t have weapons – in the big picture of things, those all were people who died needlessly and couldn’t defend themselves in a proper trial. Couldn’t defend themselves at all. And now, the Colonel was even okay about potentially giving a young captive to him, for ‘perverse’ things. Roy remembered that at the end of the week, no one in the hospital will survive. Him included. So he didn’t need to follow rules or orders of this Colonel.

Roy took a deep breath, calmed himself for a second, and moved very close to the Colonel. So close that it felt intimate, his lips almost touching the ears of the Colonel. Higgins felt uncomfortable about it bit he didn’t move away, he just smiled at his soldiers, shrugging, like saying something like “these weird alchemists”. But Roy saw that Higgins was outright scared _of him_. Then, Roy whispered in a hushed tone so that no one except Higgins could hear him.

“You will order your squad to move every captive to the cells and give them a proper dinner. You won’t kill anyone today.”

“And why is that? I have orders too and my orders are to kill all captives, considering that now we cannot move them to Central like we did before,” Higgins answered in a similarly hushed tone.

So they were sending their captives to Central before? And then no one exchanged their captives with the Aerugians? This was quite strange if Roy thought about this. But it wasn’t time to think about the weird orders of the higher-ups. If he thought about it, killing everyone in Ishval was also a strange order.

“Because…” Roy snapped his fingers and a very small fireball appeared, not noticeable to anyone besides Higgins. He continued, his lips very close to colonel’s lips and their posture intimate. “Because you won’t like me when I’m angry.” Roy bet at Higgins’ fear of himself and he smiled maniacally to strengthen the impression he was making.

Higgins was sweating. Roy could see fat drops of sweat dropping down his neck.

“We don’t even have suitable cells to keep prisoners of war. Really, you could do anything with your captive, Mustang. You can even keep him for yourself until this mission is over, I don’t care,” Higgins said, and his voice was frightened.

“I appreciate how you see that the cells are not suitable for _anyone_ spending time in them,” Roy subconsciously moved his hand down the metallic bracelets on his hands. “But my _kind request_ remains the same.”

Higgins forcefully moved out of Roy’s proximity. Then, he started shouting new orders at his soldiers.

“Move the captives to cells in the Psychiatric ward, take the bags off, provide them with dinner, and put the guards outside the cells.”

Immediately, the soldiers started relocating the captives out of the hospital’s yard. Higgins gestured Roy to walk in another direction, and, when Roy followed him, he started speaking sternly, now more collected than a minute before.

“What was that, Flame alchemist? You seem to forget how one speaks with one’s current commander. And even if we have the same rang, the General was clear about who is in charge. Hint, it’s not you.”

“I’m aware that I was sent here mostly in my capacity as an alchemist.” Then, Roy smirked, remembering his earlier thoughts on the legal provision allowing an emergency replacement of an incapacitated commander. “But considering your injury, I decided to take command. I believe that everyone will benefit if you take the time off to treat your injuries. Besides, I have the responsibility under the 0-07b provision.”

“0-07b?? Mentally incapable of commanding?” Higgins was sounding enraged now, all fear of Roy’s alchemy forgotten. “You cannot legally claim change in command according to 0-07b after you fucking escaped from prison, Mustang. Would like to go back?”

“I know,” Roy raised his hands in a snapping position. “And that’s why I would like to _kindly request_ you to notify General Rawls that my imprisonment yesterday was not fair, and it happened only because you weren’t capable of commanding the platoon because of your unfortunate shoulder injury. You just took your anger out on me,” then Roy continued with a sarcastically pained expression. “And I was defenceless in the rain, had to spend the night in the cell, but nevertheless saved everyone. So now, realizing the grave mistakes you made, you want the change of command.”

“You won’t get away with that!” Higgins said threateningly but his anger deflated the moment he saw Roy’s raised hands. So he dutifully followed Roy to the radio transmission room in the hospital.

While they were walking, Roy decided to reinforce his threat.

“I will get away with this, Higgins. You know how this mission will end, so at the end of the day, you won’t be able to complain to anyone, nor I will get any punishment. Now, I can get away with anything, and you know it.”

Higgins seemed to come to terms with Roy’s ability to get away with anything at the moment, so he followed through Roy’s ‘kind request’. Albeit when speaking with the General, he was talking begrudgingly, in short sentences and saying nothing beyond what Roy ‘requested’. Then, Higgins informed Roy that he was in command now and stormed out of the room the same minute. Well, his rage was not an issue to Roy anyway. Being in the radio transmission room, Roy had a chance to inform the mechanic to follow the 18.168 Megahertz frequency, and then Roy decided to go back to his room to finally find something besides this oversized uniform to wear.

In his room, he reluctantly put on his uniform. It was wrinkled and not pressured in days, whereas his spare uniform was all soaked with mud and thus, in even worse shape. There wasn’t a dry cleaner in the hospital – one of the disadvantages of field assignments – and with a wrinkled uniform it’d be obvious to anyone how much weight he lost in the last few days. Alchemizing for days straight was exhausting and his weight wasn’t on the healthy side in the first place. He wasn’t eating or sleeping well last months, as his mental state was getting worse once again. It happened from time to time since Ishval.

Then, there were the metallic bracelets on his hands – the ones which remained from the alchemic shackles he burned away. They were hanging loosely around his thin wrists, definitely not suitable for someone who lost so much weight only recently. He thought briefly about removing them with alchemy, but he didn’t trust his metal alchemy skills enough to do it. With earth alchemy and walls, he was more experienced, and any errors didn’t have grave consequences. Yet, with metallic bracelets on his hands, any error was a danger for him. Roy smiled, sarcastically thinking about how he needed his hands to continue threatening Higgins into following his orders.

Finally, being ready with his colonel uniform, he remembered a thing he wanted to do. He left his room, walked down the stairs to the cafeteria – he was once again greeted with clapping here – took a tray of food and walked in the direction of the cells in the Psychiatric ward. Briefly inquiring the guard about the prisoners, he walked into one of the cells – it was the same one he himself occupied yesterday. He put his biggest grin on his face, trying to look smug and arrogant rather than tired.

“So, haven’t been turned into a wolf lately, have you?” He said, opening the cell and looking at his little child-soldier captive.

-/

General Rawls had been getting very confusing reports from the Fostet hospital today.

In the middle of the night, there was a distress signal from Fostet, the hospital apparently being attacked by tanks. The local farmers reported hearing cannon sounds, so it appeared to be true.

Then, someone reported seeing large fires in Fostet. The fires seemed to vanish the same second. Local villagers were saying that those were signs from Fruciozo – the God in frucionism – but Rawls knew that he sent a flame alchemist to Fostet recently, so he assumed that this was flame alchemy.

The next transmission from Fostet was beyond strange. Colonel Higgins requested an emergency radio broadcast, reported how he took unfair decisions towards the Flame alchemist, and at last said that he wanted to transfer command to the Flame alchemist following the 0-07b provision. Aka the mentally unstable commander being replaced provision. And if Rawls knew anything about people and especially people in the army, then no one would ever willingly agree to transfer command to someone else while admitting being mentally unstable.

Now, Rawls received yet another emergency broadcast request from Fostet. Just an hour after the previous one. Rawls hastily moved to the broadcast room, asking to put whoever was calling through.

“…And I’m telling you, he’s out of control! He threatened me with his fires. He literally threatened me into my first broadcast with you, General…” This was Higgins once again, sounding enraged and hushed. “You know, I’d never allow anyone to use 0-07b against me. Sir, we need to stop him. Just as you were afraid, he’s uncontrollable. He may have been on our side yesterday, but he probably just wanted to see how beautifully the tanks burn… You know how _they_ are, General.”

Rawls smiled. Everyone knew that he hated alchemists after what happened with Kimblee, and many people tried to use it. Yet these people didn’t know that he tried not to guide his decisions by his feelings towards alchemists.

“As I understood from what I could gather, the Flame alchemist helped immensely against the tanks,” Rawls started. “I believe, there wasn’t any other way to stop tanks, and he had to break out of prison to engage in fight.”

“He did, Sir. But as I just said, he’s not interested in saving people. All he wants is a chance to use his flame alchemy and getting more power. As I said, he was threatening me today. He came to me, with big fires around him and then said that what he was asking me of was a kind request. He almost burned me! We cannot allow someone to break out of prison and then threaten to burn everyone around him.”

Then, another voice appeared over the broadcast. It also seemed that there was struggle on the other side of the broadcast.

“Sir, Lieutenant Savante-Smith reporting. May I present my version of the events, Sir?”

“Sure,” Rawls heard Higgins expressing his discontent at that. “Colonel, allow the Lieutenant to speak, please.”

“Sir, I completely trust that Colonel Mustang has the best interest of the hospital’s patients, soldiers and staff in mind.”

“Continue.”

“He risked his life today. He had to move very close to the tanks and was almost hit by a cannon blast while doing it. I was with him, and he was extremely concerned about the safety of every soldier around him.”

“General, as I was saying, Mustang only wants to see beautiful explosions or something of this sort. You know how _all alchemists_ are – ready to die for their new high,” Higgins interrupted. “He is also negotiating the exchange of prisoners right now. Maybe there’s more to it. Maybe he works for Aerugians or otherwise why would _an alchemist_ even volunteer for this mission?”

“Sir, I disagree,” the Lieutenant was speaking now. “Actually, I was captured today, and Colonel Mustang followed the retreating Aerugians, engaged in a fight with them and saved me. And, Sir, what kind of alchemist interested in beautiful explosions would even try to save subordinates by negotiating exchange of captives against the orders?”

Rawls frowned. It was clear to him that Mustang was indeed not following any orders. Very Eastern command thing to do, apparently. But at the same time, Rawls always trusted Lieutenant’s judgement of other people. And seeing how the Lieutenant was very distrustful of all alchemists after Ishval and seemed to think very poorly of Roy Mustang at the beginning of this mission, the U-turn in his evaluation of Mustang was an encouraging sign.

Then, the new voice appeared in the broadcast, the sound of struggle on the other side intensifying now.

“Sir, I believe you were presented with incorrect information about me.” It was a deep and a little bit hoarse voice. “It’s Colonel Roy Mustang speaking. Sir, I had to act in accordance with 0-07b which says that the commander has to be forcefully removed from the position. Being the highest-ranking officer in the command, I had to act. Sir, I think there was every reason to do this. Higgins was behaving erratically. He didn’t believe that we can’t light fires in the rain, then he severely restrained my ability to help with the tanks, and if I wasn’t lucky enough to escape, the hospital would be captured now. He also allowed everyone to drink alcohol to celebrate, and you know how terrible this order is, considering we don’t have a lot of soldiers to defend the hospital. His injury is not only affecting his mental well-being, but also puts everyone here in danger. And you can put anyone else in command if you want. I’m not doing this for power.”

The General was able to read between the last lines. Roy Mustang was doing it exactly for power, yet he was okay with any other commander and not following new commander's orders next time around. This was a tricky situation for the General. This day proved that Mustang’s alchemy was very useful for the hospital, possibly an only chance for survival of many people. Yet the man was threatening Higgins into giving the command to him for whatever reasons. Clearly, Higgins wouldn’t be able to command him. If he leaves Higgins in power, then there was a real chance that Higgins will try imprisoning Mustang once again, potentially destroying their only chance at survival. Giving the command to Mustang meant dealing with many unknown variables. But at the same time, it meant that the only alchemist in command will act in harmony with everyone else, as he’d command the troops in a way that will use his alchemy skills in the best way. The only issue with this plan was whether or not Mustang actually cared for his subordinates. What Higgins pointed out about the exchange of prisoners was a good way to test it.

“Mustang, I’ve heard that you started negotiating the exchange of prisoners five minutes into getting into command. Can you elaborate?”

“Sir, I’ve heard that the orders were to transport all prisoners to Central. But we cannot move them to Central.”

“Yes, that’s why Colonel Higgins reported to me that he will have to euthanize the prisoners. I don’t see any options around there.”

“But Sir, I believe that if there are no options to relocate the prisoners, then the standard law applies. We have to take care of them and negotiate the exchange.”

“I don’t believe that there’s standard law about handling the prisoners, Mustang.”

Rawls felt funny, actually. Here they were, having a legal debate when the hospital was on the brink of being captured and two highest-ranking officials there couldn’t decide who was in command.

“I believe otherwise. The 1867 Treaty on Fair Treatment of Prisoners of War applies in this situation. It mandates to…”

“I know what the treaty mandates, Colonel,” Rawls knew for sure – he was in the military academy at the time when the treaty was signed. Everyone then felt celebratory about it, thinking that the age of wars was over, and the new Amestrian democracy would exist forever. Funny times they were, weren’t they? “But I believe that this Treaty was signed between Amestris, Xing, and Creta. It simply doesn’t apply in this situation.”

“No, Sir, it does. The Treaty had a unilateral opt-in character, meaning that when we signed it, we agreed to treat any prisoners as specified in the treaty, regardless of the actions of other countries. Anyway, Sir, the negotiation will help in other ways too. If Aerugians agree to exchange the prisoners, it’ll mean that they do not know about our isolated situation. Otherwise, they wouldn’t willingly handle us 10 more soldiers. Besides, considering how we only have 30 soldiers left – and I don’t know yet whether all of them are fit to fight, - we need these soldiers to save the hospital.”

Rawls saw now why there seemed to be so many people – including the General Grumman – admiring Roy Mustang. He thought that those were just people impressed by the flame alchemy or how young Mustang was when he became a colonel, but now Rawls realized that Mustang had a way with words and a very sharp mind. He was indeed a colonel material. Though Rawls still needed at least a hint on Mustang’s intentions.

“And what about your little retreat to save Lieutenant Savante-Smith today? Did you believe that risking the life of an only alchemist in the command was worth saving the Lieutenant?”

There was a pause on the other side of the transmission, Mustang hesitating to say anything. Well, his actions weren’t really explainable in Rawls’ opinion.

“Yes, Sir, I see how my actions were not justified in the hindsight now,” Mustang admitted finally. “But I believe that we have to save everyone whom we can save, even if there’re risks involved. There’re always risks but we can’t just sit back and let good people die,” he finished firmly.

Rawls briefly considered all facts at hand. First, Higgins was actually injured and if he didn’t think to use Mustang against the tanks, then his judgement was clouded by whatever transpired between two colonels. Second, Oliver seemed to trust Mustang, and if anything, Rawls believed his judgement. The man judged other people only by their actions, and Mustang seemed to do something to deserve that trust. Third, Mustang seemed to _care_. There weren’t any pay offs for him in saving the captives from the enemy. Yet he wanted to do it so much, he stopped the firing squad and took the command out of Higgins’ hands. He didn’t do any of that when he was arrested or when the hospital was attacked by tanks, so the timing seemed to indicate that the reason was exactly the exchange of prisoners. Finally, Mustang’s argument about seeing how informed the enemy troops about their situations were, was also good. If Rawls’ understanding of the situation was correct, Roy Mustang was far greater man than he allowed to show.

“Fine, Mustang. I hereby leave you in command of the platoon of the Fostet hospital. As a commander, you can take the decision regarding the prisoners at your discretion,” this way, Rawls didn’t explicitly allow the exchange of prisoners and transferred the blame for it to Mustang – he wasn’t in his position for nothing, after all. Then, Rawls remembered something. “Besides, Mustang, I decided that an earth alchemist will build a tunnel to the Fostet hospital. The tunnel will be ready in…”

He was interrupted.

“An earth alchemist? _Sir_ , I strongly requested you not to put Fullmetal on this mission. If you did, I’ll…” Mustang was sounding threatening. Maybe he did care _too much_ , after all? Rawls interrupted him before he was able to threaten anyone.

“It’s the Strong Arm Alchemist. I believe the suggestion to build a tunnel came from one Lieutenant Colonel Hughes.”

“Sorry for my outburst, Sir,” Mustang sounded relieved now. Yes, he did indeed care way _too much_ than what was a healthy amount. Rawls almost wished to get Mustang under his command now so he could guide him into seeing how he could distance himself from all these emotions and attachments. But caring commanders like these rarely lived long enough to learn how to manage emotions, and this mission was a proof for this.

“… As I said, the tunnel will be ready in four and a half days. If you hold off as much, we could bring additional forces and use the tunnel for evacuations.”

“Yes, Sir,” was it hope in the voice on the other side of the line? “I take this new information into consideration, although I have a plan to finish the evacuations much earlier.”

“Good. Act as you wish.”

The transition was over soon, and Rawls sent a soldier to notify Hughes about the new order. However, neither Hughes, nor anyone from the Eastern command was there. Rawls was almost expecting it. If what he learned about Roy Mustang today was true, then the reason for all these attempts to save him was simple. His subordinates cared about him as much as he cared for them. So they must have left to build the tunnel against the orders. Suddenly, the reason why no one in the Eastern command seemed to follow orders became clear.

Rawls decided to inform the self-organized rescue mission personally.

-/

The dirt was everywhere. In their clothes, hair, behind his glasses, on Elicia’s photos. Good, that Maes put Roy’s batch somewhere safe. Roy’ll get his required dose of 500 Elicia’s photos in time. Maes was working for only half a day but he already felt exhausted. Working like a mule who had to move dirt around was tiring. But this was the most efficient way for Armstrong to work over this tunnel. He couldn’t move the earth to the surface, as they were in the enemy territory, and the whole point of building the tunnel was to be secretive. Everyone around him was exhausted too but no one complained – they were ready to put everything they had in saving Roy.

“Hughes, maybe you’ll finally show some photos?” Riza asked. She was working as much as everyone else, dragging heavy carts around without complaint. “I’m tired of hearing about this bet. Besides, Fuery bet at 1 so he’ll win his money back if you show only one photo.”

Since yesterday’s display of fires, Riza’s mood was improving, and as such, she was ready to participate in the usual Team Mustang routine. Maes knew why – in such stressful situation, everyone wanted to distract themselves with something what became a routine, Riza included.

“Alright, I’ll show one photo only,” he moved around, trying to reach water to wash his hands. This moment, he saw a little delegation coming inside the cave. The delegation included General Rawls and a number of other soldiers around him. Maes started thinking about ways to explain why they did what they did without orders. He decided that he’ll blame everything at orders of the Central command – and while higher-ups will be figuring out who gave the orders, they may be lucky and finish the tunnel in time. They’ll probably all get court-martialled at the end, but saving Roy was more important than anything. So he saluted the General with defiance in his eyes. He saw everyone around him – the whole Team Mustang and Major Armstrong – doing the same thing. They’ll all see to it that they’ll build the tunnel, whatever it’ll cost them. But General’s next words astonished him.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes, I’m glad that you already started building the tunnel. Were you in the Southern command a few hours ago, you’d know that I gave the order to build it. Good that you predicted my order and started working beforehand. I’ll make sure to send my praise to your commanding officer.”

Hughes was ready to explain what they did, but now he was just standing there surprised, gasping air, and not knowing what to say. So Riza came to his help.

“Thank you, Sir, we’ll see to it that we complete the task.”

“I’m sure on that. And I already informed the new commander of the platoon in the Fostet hospital – the Colonel Mustang – that you’re building the tunnel. I also brought someone to help you.”

Then, a soldier stepped in front of them. He was very young, with a boyish look and a sad expression on his face.

“Sergeant Robertson grew up on a farm here, right at the border. He knows the local landscape, and I’m sure, you need additional hands around,” Rawls said, looking at their dirty faces. “He also specializes as a radio mechanic, and he knows what kind of local frequencies are best for a safe transmission. And I believe Lieutenant Hawkeye already met him, right?”

Maes looked at Riza and saw that she smiled warmly at the Sergeant. Good, he believed in her judgement of people, and if she felt fine about the Sergeant joining them, then there wasn’t any issue with that.

When the General left, Robertson was able to quickly set up a radio transmission in two directions - to the Southern command and to the hospital. This was beyond what they expected. Not only they received a permission to build the tunnel, they also learned that Roy managed to become a commander in Fostet (Maes wondered darkly if this was a battlefield promotion), and they got a direct line to both Fostet and the Southern Command.

In the night, they managed to connect to the Fostet hospital. It was time for them to sleep now, so they all gathered around the radio transmitter, already in their sleeping bags. It felt like a family gathering around the radio to hear important news.

“Colonel Mustang speaking,” Maes heard the smug voice of his friend, and he felt like he was about to cry. He was so scared that he would never hear his best friend’s voice again.

“What’s up, Roy? I’ve heard you overthrew the local colonel”, Maes joked – they always joked around about how Roy would one day stage a coup because all he talked about was becoming a Fuhrer and creating democracy.

“Hell, you were not supposed to know,” the voice sounded almost offended now. Maes sighed in frustration. Roy didn’t actually overthrow anyone, did he? “I was acting according to 0-07b, and I _didn’t_ threaten anyone, alright?”

“Sir, as your adjutant, I strongly advise you not to threaten your commanding officers. I believe it defies the whole purpose of me protecting you.”

“All right, all right,” the voice on the other side was sounding defeated. “There’re no other commanders left anyway, so you shouldn’t worry.”

“And Sir, what about getting imprisoned? What was that all about?”

“I broke out of prison; it was just a cakewalk…”

“You _broke out_ of prison??”

Maes distanced himself from the bickering between Roy and Riza. She was threatening to shoot him, Roy was doing something risky and stupid. All things were as they were supposed to be. And now, after they were allowed to build the tunnel, got additional hands to help them, and were on course to finish in time, things were looking promising to them. Everything’s going to be alright. Maes looked up, smiled, and thanked the non-existing gods, the providence, the fate, anything – for how relieved he felt right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry about such a long chapter. I know now how many chapters are left now, so there was a plan for what should go in this chapter. Also, thanks to everyone who reads this. I appreciate you a lot. I know that there are a lot of ways for me to improve - especially, considering how I'm not a native speaker, and I'm thankful to everyone who reads this fanfic even though there are so many flaws in it.  
> Also, I wanted to say a few things about the content of this and the previous chapter. So (*spoilers follow*) in the backstory, the Amestrians are killing all the captives because of the whole the array around Amestris needs blood thing. Further, even though Roy finds the wolf thing amusing, I believe it something which could have easily happened. At the end of the day, Roy doesn't know anything yet and naively things that those orders are just stupid. The legal debate thing was just a fun thing for me to write, and I think it also is very fitting in this world, where Amestris clearly had democracy some time ago, and now doesn't.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, see the tags for any trigger warnings - there're some new tags.  
> And this chapter is the angsty angst and a very hurt part of the hurt/comfort. I had to edit the chapter for several days to add more drama :D  
> In the next chapter, Ed and Al will finally appear!

The radio sound was distorted, and the words came out barely recognizable, yet Roy was able to discern the same words being repeated over and over again: “King’s gambit accepted.” Roy concealed his satisfaction with a cocky grin – his plan worked but no one else needed to know that. He took the transmitter in his hands, cleared his throat, pronounced ‘King’s gambit accepted’ in the microphone and pressed the big red button ‘Send’.

“Is this some kind of a new negotiation technique I’ve never heard of? Some new way of communicating you can only learn in your fancy universities, Mustang? Or is it an alchemic code for ‘I don’t give a fuck about orders’?”

Roy sighed. Higgins refused to rest and take the time off. Instead, the former commander of the platoon followed Mustang throughout the day like a shadow, commenting his every action. His comments were neither helpful nor encouraging. When Roy stopped the drinking spree of soldiers – soldiers were getting so loud and so uncontrollable that Aerugians must have heard them on their side of the trenches too – Roy learned that he was a ‘heartless’ commander who didn’t give a shit about the mental well-being of soldiers. Roy also learned that he apparently didn’t salute in the right way, his uniform was not well-pressed enough (not that anyone’s uniform was – there wasn’t a dry cleaner, nor the time to take care of it), and he ate too much. Roy actually agreed with the last comment, though to be fair, if Higgins ever saw Breda or Ed eat, he’d never say anything like this ever again. But eating helped a little bit with the exhaustion from using alchemy. Especially considering that from early in the morning, Roy went full-on in an alchemic mode. He reinforced the hospital walls which were hit the hardest in the attack last night, then, he built new walls around the trenches. He even started working on creating spikes on the roads leading to the hospital to prevent new tank attacks.

Now, he finally had a chance to conduct the ‘negotiations’ on the exchange of prisoners. Considering that only the Lieutenant knew that the negotiations had already taken place, the negotiation technique consisting of parroting enemy’s transmission was not something Roy could easily explain. So distraction was it, then.

“Oh, I don’t get to be called “Sir” now, when I’m in charge?”

“You’re in charge only because you threatened your way to the top,” Higgins said, looking at Roy furiously. Then, he smiled. “Well, if I tell the General about your…” his hands made the characteristic quote-unquote gesture in the air. “ _negotiations_ , and the way you handle them, then he surely will reconsider his decision about your new position.”

So, distraction didn’t work. Roy looked out the window, seeing the soldiers in the trenches. They needed help and having more soldiers meant to survive a little bit longer, yet Roy couldn’t think of any possible explanation for what had been happening. He was very tired, and his usually cunning mind went blank every time he tried to think of possible explanations. He melancholically thought about repeating what Higgins did just yesterday and imprisoning Higgins so that he wouldn’t ask all these inconvenient questions, but this wasn’t a great idea either. The soldiers in the hospital were probably still loyal to Higgins, even if his alchemy persuaded them that he wasn’t an enemy. So not a good solution either.

“Sir, it’s a code for ‘11 in the morning’, as in the King’s gambit, the pawns have to make 11 first moves,” the Lieutenant came to rescue. Yes, the Lieutenant refused to take a break either, despite being obviously concussed. When Roy tried to order him to rest, he was called a hypocrite for not resting himself after he passed out of exhaustion while creating the spikes around the hospital. “The Aerugians suggested us to exchange the prisoners tomorrow in the morning and the Colonel Mustang agreed to this.”

Higgins started contemplating on what was just said.

“But the radio frequency? How did you know it? And how on Earth did they start negotiations exactly when you are in charge? You obviously have other negotiation channels with Aerugians, Mustang.”

Not a single word of what the Lieutenant said was true, but Roy could work with that. Now, having an explanation for the meaning of the phrase, he found it much easier to lie his way out of this.

“Well, you should have known about this, unless of course, you don’t have the security clearance at the level A-01b….”

“A-01b? The general level security clearance?! Don’t tell me you have it, Mustang.”

“I do, and I thought all colonels have it as well”, like all good manipulators, Roy knew where to hit. He looked at his fingers like he didn’t care, but he knew at the same time how hurt Higgins must have been after hearing that he didn’t have the security clearing all colonels were getting. Which in fact wasn’t true. “So yes, they always send the negotiation proposal on this frequency and a letter to the Fuhrer where they explain the codes,” this wasn’t true either, but Roy was speaking with confidence. “All I did was answer them in the codes they specified earlier. Tomorrow at 11, we’ll have a ceasefire and the exchange of prisoners.”

Higgins wanted to say something else, obviously furious at finding out the colonels were able to get the security clearance he wasn’t getting, but Roy didn’t give him a chance.

“It’s time to rest for all of us,” Roy said at last. “Now, it’s an order. We have a big day ahead.”

-/

“Our baker was very old, and, you know, he always complained about things. Once I paid him in small change and he went on and on about how he hates coins and there should be one coin priced as much as bread costs and no other coins whatsoever. But he was a good person – he even helped me with my homework after my dad died… He was the only person in the whole neighbourhood who was good at geography and history, so that’s probably how my grades were good enough for the military academy. And that’s how I know that the soils there mostly consist of feldspar but further down South there’s an old riverbed, so if we dig there, it’s probably going to be easier.”

Hughes looked at Sergeant Roberson. The guy was talking sometimes about his childhood and everyone could notice how much he loved his home. He grew up in a little village right next to the Southern border – the place which saw quite a fair share of war after it had been captured by the Amestrians several decades ago. Yet Robertson rarely mentioned the war when he was talking as if he hadn’t had to evacuate a thousand times out of the war zone because of changes on the front. And the way he was talking… It was sweet. He only described other people as ‘good’ or ‘helpful’ or ‘gentle’ and managed to remember small good things about other people even if he barely knew them. For instance, he saw Roy only once – when Roy was boasting about becoming a prophet among people who worship fire – and nevertheless, Robertson found a way to describe Roy as ‘caring’ for taking time to reassure his Lieutenant. Needless to say, Robertson quickly earned everyone’s trust. It was helped by the fact that he was eager to work and carried carts even faster than everyone else like he wanted them to build the tunnel as fast as possible – which wasn’t surprising, the guy probably had a ton of friends in the hospital. Besides, he also helped with his local knowledge, remembering where there was an old river, and finding the old riverbed would make building the tunnel a bit easier for Armstrong. All in all, Hughes was thankful for having this guy in their team, even though the guy was too depressed. Riza said that his friend was stationed at the hospital, so probably he was just worried about him, right?

“Huh, the baker in my town always commented on my weight, this asshole. Like why would you care? He should have been happy I was buying his bread. He was earning so much money off me!”, this was Breda and of course Breda had a story about a baker in his town. He could talk hours about food and even more about places selling food.

“Maybe he was just concerned about your health, Sir?” Robertson smiled. “Even if he wasn’t, it’s nice to know your baker, you know? I was studying in the South city, and I’ve never met a seller there who bothered to learn my name, let alone chastise me for what I was eating.”

Hughes inwardly smiled. Maybe, Robertson wouldn’t be as eager to help to get to Roy if he knew about Roy’s teasing of Ed about farmer boys and how they are always loud and don’t know how to knock on doors… Well, Roy used every single opportunity to make fun of Ed, and Ed responded with the same vigour, yet both vaguely cared for each other.

“I knew our baker, and I grew up in the city,” this was Fuery – he and Robertson found a lot to talk about in the last two days, as they both shared their interest in radio. “He was a veteran of the Western war, had an automail arm. Was always telling stories about the war.”

Robertson visibly flinched at that and then said, smiling: “I kind of forgot there was the Western war… We had wars at every border except East, and even there we didn’t have a war only because of the desert. Sometimes you read about these things in the history books and forget that there were actual people participating in them, not just numbers. Actual people who always tell the stories.”

It was true. There were always wars and survivors, and sometimes these survivors were so impacted by the war that they couldn’t tell the stories – Hughes knew too many of them after Ishval. And now here they were, carrying dirt and building a tunnel in the enemy territory because of yet another war. Was it just the nature of things that wars were fought all the time, or was it something about their government? Roy was sure that he knew the answer, yet he still went on this mission even though he promised to do something about it. As for Hughes, he wasn’t sure. People were often violent, distrusting, lying, manipulating – he knew too many of those in his work and even in his private life – and even the best people wanted to use violence or have their revenge… So sometimes wars happened just because they ought to happen because they were in the nature of people.

-/

Roy looked at his pocket watch. 10:54. He was in the trenches, with his soldiers around and the captives ready for the exchange. His little child soldier captive was here too, looking stressed but hopeful. Their talk yesterday did wonders with his fear, so now he wasn’t so panicked about being in captivity. Roy was sincerely happy about that. Even if he was the enemy soldier, he still deserved a little bit of comfort. Well, welcome to Roy Mustang’s centre for detention – fast processing times, tasty dinners, and a trip back to your home country in a day.

When the pocket watch showed 11:00, Roy gestured everyone to stop shooting. One soldier didn’t look convinced by the whole ceasefire thing, and Roy forcefully lowered his gun.

“I’ve got it under control,” he said, looking at the soldier and raising his hand in a snapping position. He did indeed have it under control and if Aerugians planned to use the ceasefire for a sudden attack, then he’d be ready with his alchemy.

When the fire stopped, Roy looked at the other side and saw that Aerugians also stopped shooting. So far so good. However, there wasn’t any movement on the other side, no one was releasing the captives.

He took a deep breath and looked at his pocket watch. It was 11:02. He looked at the little child captive among the Aerugians, nervously waiting to be released and smiling in the expectation of getting home safe. Then, he took the decision and gestured to let the Aerugian captives go. He knew it was a gamble, but someone had to start first.

The released Aerugians started running to the other side.

Roy looked at his pocket watch and saw 11:04. Surely, Aerugians had enough time to release their own captives, right? Roy started contemplating on what was going to happen if he was to release the Aerugian captives without getting any captives back. It would probably illustrate his naivety as a commander, and Higgins would jump at this opportunity to get his position back. He decided that in case Aerugians won’t respond by releasing their captives, he’ll have to kill the released Aerugians with his own alchemy. Then, he’d simply say that this was needed to demonstrate his power once again.

Roy looked at the released captives with apprehension. He’ll have to kill them just because he didn’t like to be seen as weak. But then, he hid all emotions away, raised his hand and started concentrating on air. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong about killing the enemy soldiers, right? He thought about the little child-captive, and he wished that the time stopped, and he wouldn’t need to kill anyone anymore. But he had to. Some time ago he thought that he’d be a commander who wouldn’t allow anyone to take unfair decisions, and his soldiers wouldn’t have to kill the innocents. Oh, how wrong he was. He had to kill so many people since then, he, himself, because of various circumstances he was in. Sometimes he even doubted if him becoming a Fuhrer would change anything. Maybe it all would be the same, and everyone will continue killing because they’ll have to?

The captives reached the other trenches, and Roy could feel the stares of his soldiers. He looked up, trying not to think about the little child soldier being burnt to ashes, trying not to show any emotion about the whole blunder – the soldiers still needed to see him as a strong and powerful commander in any situation… Just the moment he was about to snap (the clock was close to 11:06, every second feeling like an hour now) – there was a movement on the other side and a line of soldiers appeared from there. They were in Aerugian uniform, all walking like they didn’t have any serious injuries. Roy exhaled, the frustration dwindling away and the happiness that he won’t have to burn anyone to ashes today overwhelming him.

“Do you recognize these soldiers, Lieutenant?” he said, putting on the mask of calmness and arrogant self-assurance.

“Yes, I recognize all of them, Sir”.

When the soldiers finally reached their respective trenches, the Aerugians fired one shot in the air, indicating that the ceasefire was over. This was quite nice of them if Roy thought about it. He asked his soldiers to repeat the gesture and return to the standard warzone mode.

Things were getting better. If he was that lucky, then – he harboured the thought he was trying to keep away – then he may be lucky enough to survive this whole ordeal. Maybe, the tunnel idea will work, and he’ll return even better than before – saving a hospital would truly count towards a promotion, wouldn’t it? Then, another thought emerged. He _didn’t_ deserve a promotion or Fuhrership after he almost killed the released captives to keep his reputation safe. He looked back at the trenches and put his perfect emotionless mask on, putting both thoughts away – the hope and the disgust at himself.

-/

“The General said the tunnel will be ready in four and a half days, right? But yesterday we have been working for the whole day, right? And Major said that he’ll finish in four days, not four and a half,” Breda was contemplating while unloading his cart into the pit.

“I expect us to finish on September 29th, 10:53:41 in the morning”, Falman said. “Which is in two days, twenty hours, 31 minutes and 21 seconds from now.”

“Aaah, it’s creepy when you calculate so fast, Vato,” Havoc joined the conversation. “It means another 3 days without smoking, and I really need a smoke. Why didn’t we ask Chief to join, then it’d be much faster, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you talking about Ed?” Hughes appeared from the tunnel, carrying another heavy cart with dirt. “I thought about it but it’s difficult to reach him in this small town and it’s also quite dangerous in here. I also don’t think we’d be so secretive with this tunnel if Ed was here.”

Havoc smiled.

“Right, he’s not a very quiet guy though at least he’d make this tunnel safe for smoking.”

“Ed doesn’t specialize in air,” now it was Hawkeye’s stern voice. “We are deep underground and we don’t know what’s the atmosphere here is like. We can’t risk lighting anything on fire.” Then, her sharp gaze noticed something Havoc was trying very hard to conceal – a cigarette in his hand and a lighter in another. Quickly, she took her gun out of her holster, pointed at Havoc’s cigarette, and gently asked: “Is this a cigarette in your hand, Lieutenant?”

Havoc started sweating nervously, trying to find a way to avoid her fury.

“Uhgm… I was just holding it… I just wanted to touch it…” seeing as no arguments worked in his favour, he moved to the next available option – distraction. “Sergeant Robertson, I like your stories so much,” he smiled nervously, while throwing the cigarette as far away as possible and looking at Hawkeye with ‘there-are-witnesses-here-please-don’t-shoot-me’ stare. “Do you have any stories about the river that once was here, huh?”

Robertson clearly noticed that this was a distracting question but acted as if he didn’t mind.

“Yeah, Sir… My uncle tried to teach me and my friend fishing here. I ended up catching my friend’s t-shirt, and my friend never caught anything with his fishing rod but he kinda caught one fish with his bare hands. Preparing dinner afterwards was a struggle though. Never knew there are so many rituals for preparing fish in frucionism.”

Under Riza’s gaze, Havoc got rid of the whole cigarette pack. Now, he was standing there, deciding what to do with his lighter. This was one of his favourite ones, the one he won for his previous girlfriend in a shooting gallery. Then, deciding that his life was more important, he threw away the lighter too. Seeing how Riza put her gun back in her holster, Havoc felt a little bit safer now. But just to be sure, he decided to continue with distraction.

“So why did the river change its course so quickly? It doesn’t happen so often, right?” said Havoc.

“Locals say that Fruciozo punished us by moving the river away because there were so many people who lost the way of God,” then, Robertson started speaking furiously. “But it’s bullshit, of course. The military created a dam so that more water gets to the Southern city rather than flows to the region which is often captured by the Aerguians. So there’s that.” Then, as if realizing that he was too emotional, he smiled nervously and looked away, calming himself down. “There’re just some things I didn’t really like, it doesn’t mean I’m against Amestris or anything like this.”

Havoc and Hawkeye exchanged thoughtful looks. It wasn’t uncommon for Amestrian soldiers to keep a grudge against the military, but they still needed to keep an eye on Sergeant to make sure there wasn’t more to it.

-/

“…Even Kimblee refused to work more than the alchemic work safety regulations allowed. These regulations are there for a reason,” Lieutenant said, looking at the new evacuation plans. When Roy tried to object, Lieutenant didn’t give him a chance, predicting what he was going to say. “You know that you’ll have to use alchemy all the time you’re in trenches because you put only 9 people in each shift. We hardly manage with 20 soldiers in trenches.”

Roy was trying to focus on finishing his calculations. He checked several times and every time, his calculations were right. His plan allowed faster evacuation of patients – now, when not only hospital staff but the soldiers as well helped with the evacuations, they can expect to finish in 3 days. This plan also helped to save the ammunition. With fewer soldiers in trenches, they could also expect less ammunition waste. All in all, the plan was perfect, except for one small detail that the Lieutenant was pointing out for the last hour of endless rambling. In particular, the fact that Roy will have to use more alchemy to help to defend the trenches. Roy personally didn’t see a way around it, so he didn’t really understand why the Lieutenant would want to talk him out of it.

“I never took you for a type to care about the regulations,” Roy said, at last, his voice tired, and he himself trying to avoid looking the Lieutenant in the eyes. “And…” he frowned. “If you ever again compare me with Kimblee, you’ll have to get automail legs too.”

The Lieutenant didn’t look even remotely bothered by the threat. After Roy saved him from the captivity yesterday, his opinion of Roy changed once and for all, and since then, Roy had a hard time threatening him into doing something. For Roy, it was nice to have someone on his side for once, but at the same time, he missed the unconditional subordination his rank usually required.

“I know alchemic safety regulations by heart because it was an only way to stop Kimblee… For fucks’ sake,” when Roy looked at the Lieutenant questioningly, the Lieutenant added: “Sir… When we were going up the mountain path, I thought you were trying to escape. But now I see that you just weren’t healthy enough to keep up with me.”

“What? No, I’m not useless…”

“You’re not. But now I see why you volunteered for this mission. Out of two available options, the great Flame Alchemist always chooses the most suicidal one.”

“You have no business commenting my choices, Lieutenant.”

“Just look at yourself, you look like a walking corpse!”

“You’re forgetting yourself, Lieutenant. I don’t think your job description includes commenting on my looks,” Roy gestured, indicating that the conversation was over, but the Lieutenant didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped closer to Roy and hastily grabbed his shoulder. The material of Roy’s uniform deflated, revealing how oversized it was right now. Roy tried to move out of the grasp, but he just wasn’t strong enough to do it.

“That’s what I’m talking about. This is a textbook example of alchemic exhaustion. And now, you want to use even more alchemy? The regulation requires to stop using excess amounts of alchemy the minute you start losing weight, and you were losing weight all the time while here. You should just admit it that you’re killing yourself.”

This was enough for Roy. Seeing how he can’t move away from Lieutenant’s grasp, he snapped, looking detachedly at how fires encompassed the Lieutenant’s automail hand. He wanted to snap again but then the Lieutenant finally released him and fell on the ground to put down the fires with carpet. Then, Roy fixed the wrinkles on his shoulder, and stood up, looking at the Lieutenant lying below him.

“You’re forgetting yourself, Lieutenant. The only thing you need to know is your orders. That’s it. If you’re under an impression that you are some kind of an aide to me or I’m interested in your opinion, then you’re deeply mistaken. If I saved you from the Aerugians, then it was only because I needed more soldiers to defend this hospital. Dismissed.”

The Lieutenant started finally collecting himself from the ground, checking if his arm was working – it was still working, a sturdy instrument probably made by well-known masters in Rush valley. Then, he started moving in the direction of the door.

“Your friends are building a tunnel to save you,” he said very quietly. “You cannot betray their friendship by killing yourself on this mission.”

Roy’s expression softened. Friends. Right, their plan brought a little bit of hope but waiting for them still meant to survive for another 3 days – thankfully, they said that they’ll finish faster in their last transmission.

“I know, Lieutenant,” he said in the same quiet tone. “I’m doing my best. But their efforts would be useless if the hospital will be captured earlier or we’re stuck with way more patients then we can provide for. I’m not risking my life more than necessary, I promise.”

-/

It took another day for Roy to finish the spikes around the hospital. He was already contemplating if it was necessary at all – what if the enemy had no tanks left? But then, one of the scouts returned from observing the enemy base and said that there were at least 30 more tanks by the Aerugians. So Roy praised himself for going along with spikes around the hospital.

Working in the trenches wasn’t as exhausting as building walls or protecting the hospital from tanks. Roy even could sleep while there were other people looking out for the enemy. However, every time there was an attack or anything that looked like an attack, he had to use the excessive amounts of alchemy. After two days of indecent amounts of flame alchemy used there, the ground between the trenches cracked, all the plants there got burned away, and it all looked so much like a desert that Roy could almost hear people speaking in Ishvalan around him. So instead, he tried not to look too much at the ground in front of the trenches and sleep every time there was a pause. So far, it worked well for him. Except for now, when he suddenly woke up in a trench, hearing the sounds of struggle around him.

“You little rat, go back to your Aerugians! I’m not giving you any ammunition!”

“But Sir, I need ammunition, there’re only a few of us in the trenches,” there was a sound of the struggle once again, then someone fell on the ground next to Roy, breathing heavily. Looked like the time to open his eyes. Ugh, the dream he was seeing was so nice, why would they do this to him? The sounds continued, and then the voice next to him said. “Sir, please, I need ammunition, I cannot sit there if we’re attacked, and the Alchemist Master is tired, we need to help him.”

Roy contemplated for a second on how cool the new title of ‘Alchemist Master’ his soldiers gave to him was and then opened his eyes. He didn’t like what he saw. One of the soldiers was lying on the ground, while another – the Corporal nonetheless – was standing above him, his fist ready for the next hit. No one tried to intervene.

“Corporal, stop this,” Roy said, frowning. Seeing how the Corporal actually stopped, he looked over at the private. “Can you explain what’s happening, Private?”

But the Corporal started talking first.

“Sir, he’s a traitor, I cannot just give him ammunition!”

Traitor, right… Roy rubbed his nose, trying to remember if there were any reports about potential traitors or any local beliefs about people being traitors. Was it some kind of interethnic dispute? But his mind came back bland. The corporal, however, was eager to explain.

“He was an Aerugian captive. He’s a traitor, and I’m not giving him a chance to kill all of us.”

“And why exactly you think he’s a traitor?”

The corporal looked at him like he couldn’t comprehend why he was asked this question. Then he continued, barely concealing his irritation.

“I just said, Sir, he surrendered to Aerugians. I saw it with my own eyes how he was surrounded and without ammunition left, and then he just surrendered! If I could, I’d kill him the second he was returned but the Lieutenant was very clear about your orders, Sir…”

Roy melancholically snapped in the direction of another attack by Aerugians. His walls were holding up but he still needed some firepower to defend against the attacks. His mind was feeling like floating around, emotions and thoughts not catching up with what he just heard. He was too tired to focus on anything. Right, his corporal wanted to kill another soldier because the latter soldier was captured by Aerugians… It happens, doesn’t it? He snapped once again, automatically, only then noticing that he burned a bird to ashes. Oh, but still, anyone could have mistaken a bird for an attack. There was a whole tree on this side of the hospital he still didn’t burn to ashes yet, so he wasn’t that bad, right? By the way, clouds looked beautiful today. The one on the left looked like a gun and the one on the right looked like fires… He and Riza… He smiled, dreamingly, remembering how Maes said once that if they’d to marry, they’ll have to use these symbols for their invitations to the wedding. Which was a ridiculous idea, if he thought about it, because they weren’t even dating, yet Maes was already there, with his plans for wedding invitations. And somehow, Roy cherished these thoughts somewhere deep inside… Weren’t girls supposed to be the ones planning weddings and children and grandchildren in their mind? Yes, if he and Riza had grandchildren, then he’d be a cool grandpa who cracks jokes and gives them more sweets than their parents. He’d also never allow any of his children or grandchildren to work in the military because people there were so violent… Like this Corporal who wanted to kill another soldier. Right, what was it about soldiers wanting to kill each other? Surely, he couldn’t be allowing anything like this as a commanding officer. He looked at a crumbling part of the wall he built around the trenches and tried to fix it and then remembered that he forgot to draw an alchemic array for it. Right, you cannot do alchemy without arrays or could you? Well, he needed to focus, or they all end up captured by Aerugians. They’ll become captives…

Captives!

Roy snapped out of it, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. He only had 40 soldiers remaining in the platoon, and 10 of them were just freed from the Aerugians, yet apparently, other soldiers had a grudge against them. He noticed some fights yesterday, but he didn’t pay any attention to it, deciding to focus on protecting the hospital against potential tank attacks. But if the soldiers were fighting with each other and wanted to kill each other, then it was far worse than he imagined. He looked at the Corporal who was standing next to him, confused about the sudden lack of answer. Roy must have been in his dreamy state for some minutes now.

“He’s now here and wants to protect the hospital. He wasn’t killed. He didn’t waste the ammunition needlessly. I don’t see any issues with this,” he said, at last, looking directly at the Corporal.

Other soldiers gathered around them, and the private looked at the gathered soldiers in fear, moving closer to Roy, almost hiding behind him.

“Sir, we all can’t trust him. There’s a reason we don’t return traitors from Aerugians.”

“Traitors…” Roy said and sighed. “I don’t see anything treacherous about being captured. I’m personally glad that he was captured rather than killed.” One of the soldiers wanted to object, but Roy gestured him to stop. “When you have soldiers in your command, it means that their lives were entrusted to you. I’m responsible for the lives of every single one of you. For the friends who will mourn if you die, for your mothers and fathers who may lose their children, for your own children who want to see their parents once again. I don’t care what you do to survive. I don’t care if you beg for your life on your knees or cross the border to surrender to Aerugians.” Soldiers looked shocked at the last sentence, but Roy didn’t care. He really wanted his soldiers to survive.

“If this guy…” he continued and then looked at the private questioningly.

“Ian.”

“If Ian decided to surrender instead of getting himself killed, then I’m personally happy about this decision. Now, he can help all of us to protect the hospital once again, so it was a decision which benefited every one of us, isn’t it?”

“But Sir, if I may object,” another soldier said, then paused and continued only after Roy nodded. “Survival is not the only thing that’s important. What about our pride? Loving our homeland? Fighting for it? Isn’t it a prouder thing to do to fight and never surrender?” Other soldiers nodded to this, repeating the old motto: “Never surrender!”

“Besides,” the soldier continued. “We’re going to die there anyway, so it’s better to die proudly rather than surrender in humiliation!” Other soldiers nodded, cheered for him and patted him – they all agreed.

Somewhere in the Aerugian trenches, Roy noticed a soldier aiming at them with a cannon. He snapped and paused, tracing how the fire melted the cannon and the soldier with it. He noticed another movement in the Aerugian trenches and snapped once again, this time injuring someone badly – he heard a scream for help somewhere on the Aerugian side. Seeing no more useful distractions, he returned back to their conversation.

“The order remains, Corporal. Give the ammunition to Ian. As for all of you, I promise that I’ll do my best for all of you to survive this mission,” he looked them in the eyes, conveying that he meant it. “And if any of you does something stupid instead of trying to survive, then,” he frowned and his whole expression went dark, almost murderous. “I will personally find you, burn you, and then bring you to our side. I’ll see how you’ll keep your pride intact while screaming in pain.”

-/

“Sir, but the Colonel says the same things about the military every day and we fully trust him. Why do you think Sergeant Robertson is shady for saying it?”

“Well I’m not saying he’s shady per se,” Havoc sighed, trying to explain it once again. “But you had to see how emotional he was when he was talking about this river of his. And isn’t it strange for an adult guy to talk so much about his childhood?”

Breda and Fuery exchanged knowing looks and then Falman started begrudgingly counting money. After that, he started dividing the bunch into two halves, methodically, moving one bill in one of two stacks at the time.

“I still don’t think that this counts as the symptom of nicotine withdrawal though,” he said while still counting money.

“Yeah yeah just give us the money already, you pedant,” Breda said. “All symptoms are there, aren’t they? He constantly talks about cigarettes, he’s sweating, his hands are trembling, and now he’s paranoid too.”

“But it has only been three days!” Falman said, looking at Havoc accusingly. “Three days!! And you already started seeing conspiracies around you. We only have 20 more hours left until the tunnel will be finished. Why couldn’t you keep it together for a little longer?”

“No, I’m not paranoid,” Havoc looked offended. “Guys, you have to listen to him talk, he’s obsessed with this shit. Maybe we should check his handbag or look what kind of radio transmissions he sends?”

“Hughes did all of this and even more. He also radioed to someone at investigations to check the guy, and they came back clean,” this was Breda. “The guy has only one gun and he keeps it in the bag while he’s working. No other weapons.”

“Hey, Hughes was also paranoid but you don’t say he’s got nicotine withdrawal. Give me back my money!” Falman tried to snatch the stack of bills away from Breda but Breda easily escaped him.

Havoc shrugged. So he was being paranoid, after all, if he suggested doing something Hughes did for every new addition to Mustang team. The guy was outright too concerned for Mustang – even getting into Fuhrer’s office was easier than getting past Hughes’ checks of any candidates for Mustang team. Hughes never gave a pass to anyone with criminal connections – even distant ones; he also checked if potential candidates were too loyal to the Fuhrer or too fond of violence. There was no way Sergeant Robertson was deemed trustworthy incorrectly, so Havoc decided to forget about his suspicions, even if there was something creepy about how much the guy was obsessed with his childhood stories and his home village.

-/

They woke Roy up at 5, early in the morning. No one wanted to wake him up – they saw how exhausted, unfocused and thin he was becoming lately, alchemizing for 3 days straight after they exchanged the prisoners. But the situation was critical.

It was pouring down since two in the night. The rain was so strong that it felt like the sky opened up and its whole content was leaking on Earth. Soldiers had a hard time seeing each other behind the veil of rain. Usually, such rains stopped very fast, and, initially, soldiers didn’t have any concerns about it. But the rain didn’t stop for hours now. And it was bad – the trenches began to get flooded. Without the trenches, capturing the hospital would have been a cakewalk for the Aerugians, so the night shift started working on stopping the flooding. Then, the Lieutenant saw that there weren’t enough soldiers in the nightshift for that task, so he mobilized all other soldiers remaining in the hospital. Some of them had to work the second or the third shifts now, not having a chance to eat or sleep. The work was hard. Soldiers were soaked wet and some even more so, having to work in the waterlogged parts of the trenches, waist-deep in the water. They only had buckets to remove the water. There was more water pouring down, and the drainage system was inadequate for dealing with so much water. Other soldiers were hastily building walls separating the waterlogged parts of the trenches from the relatively dry ones, and it was also a very hard job. Some soldiers were fighting against the advancing Aerugians who saw the rain as a chance to finally capture the hospital. In this struggle, some sense of camaraderie formed among the soldiers, all the prejudices against those who returned from captivity forgotten now.

Now, Roy was listening to the report of the situation - Higgins woke Roy up personally, darkly enquiring if there was any alchemy which could remove the water from the trenches, and now was telling about what was happening. Higgins also looked at him somehow weirdly – was it sadness in his gaze? And then, Roy realized that he was without his shirt, and he looked away ashamed, suddenly self-aware what a sad sight he was, with his protruding ribs and thin wrists in loose metallic bracelets. He started putting on his uniform quickly, and Higgins, seeing his discomfort, finally looked away.

“No, my alchemy won’t help with water… Transforming it all to air won’t help because then it’ll just get flooded again,” Roy stopped, realizing that he wasn’t supposed to tell about the air part of his alchemy. But then, why did he care if they all were about to get captured?

“Then you should rest,” Higgins stood up, still not looking at him. “And I should ask somebody to help you remove the bracelets,” he added apologetically.

But Roy refused to have rest. Once dressed in his uniform – his perfect favourite uniform which so conveniently didn’t reveal his condition – he followed Higgins to the trenches, having the fully formed plan in mind.

He moved around soldiers to the end of trenches – completely waterlogged there, so he had to stand there in the water, his chin touching the water itself, and started drawing his standard earth alchemy array. The Lieutenant saw him and started moving (swimming?) in his direction.

Drawing the array was difficult. In the early morning, there wasn’t enough light to see its contours, and the rain quickly whirled away any lines in a few seconds. Roy drew an easier array then, creating an earth cover for the first array he was trying to draw. Even this small bit of alchemy drained him. Finally succeeding at his array, he started making calculations in his mind. Any other day, these calculations were automatic, but now he needed an extra focus. The Lieutenant was close now, looking at him and Higgins who woke him up disapprovingly. Then, the Lieutenant grasped his hand.

“We just have to survive for a few more hours, and then the tunnel will be ready. Don’t do this, please.”

Oh, Roy wished he didn’t have to do anything. A second later, a cannonball hit very closely, and the water they were standing in got warm, almost hot. Aerugians were advancing and without fully functioning trenches, with their heads protruding out of the water, they wouldn’t hold off any longer. Especially in an hour or so, when the sun comes out and they will all become an easy target for Aerugian snipers.

So Roy put his hand on the array, concentrated and immersed himself in the whirlwind of alchemic power. First, he constructed walls in front of the trenches – the strongest walls he could make, as these would serve as the new walls of the trenches. Essentially, he decided to construct new trenches on top of the old ones. Then, he raised the earth in front of the new walls, creating an artificial hill which concealed the trenches. Finally, he started building the floors of the new trenches, moving the stone from the new wall over the old trenches. In the middle of building the floors, he felt too lightheaded to continue. He stopped, vomiting somewhere in front of him and then felt darkness slowly creeping at him. He wanted to look up, to see if his plan worked and his soldiers were safe now, but he couldn’t, all strength suddenly leaving him now. He fell, and he’d drown in the water around him, but the Lieutenant captured him. He tried to wake up again, to force himself out of the darkness, but he only managed to wake up enough to feel automail hands carrying him somewhere. He tried waking up once again, it didn’t work and then he finally retreated, allowing himself to get carried away with the darkness.

-/

“Once again, how much time is left?” Havoc asked, gently touching a cigarette pack in his jacket.

“You asked just 10 minutes ago!” Falman said, sounding tired. And then, seeing the impatience chiselled on Havoc’s face, he sighed and continued. “3 hours, 55 minutes and…” he looked at his watch. “5 seconds left. Really, I’m much better than just a talking timer, you know? I remember all books I ever read. And I once read a dictionary. How about you learn a few new words? For instance, ‘vexatious’ – ‘vek’-‘sey’-‘shus’ – a person who is very annoying, irritating and should have stopped asking the same question over and over again at least two days ago.”

“All right, all right…” Havoc shrugged, looking not very concerned. “I just want to save the Boss as soon as possible, that’s it.” He unloaded his cart into the pit, wiped his hands with a rag, and reached for a bottle of water.

A few seconds later, Fuery and Breda appeared, together carrying a severely oversized radio transmitter.

“Fuck, why does it have to be so heavy?” Breda asked, catching his breath after carrying the heavy thing.

“Sergeant Robertson built it himself out of my radio equipment. He said it’ll work better this deep under earth,” then Fuery looked at the apparat confused. “Though to be fair, the _size_ of the radio itself doesn’t have anything to do with the strength of the signal, and this thing has to be plugged to the electric network, so it doesn’t have more batteries than a standard radio,” he scratched his head, thoughtfully. “And its antenna is of standard size, so technically, I don’t see how this thing would help to amplify the signal. So why then did Sergeant Robertson…”

This second, Hughes and Hawkeye ran there, holding their guns ready. When they saw everyone else there, they looked extremely relieved.

“Thank God you are all alive,” Hughes said at last. “Where are they?” he asked, holding his gun ready.

“Who, Sir?” Fuery asked.

“The Aerugians. Sergeant ran to us, saying that Aerugians attacked you. So where are they?”

Havoc suddenly realized something, looking at everyone here in fear.

“So did all of you come here because the Sergeant asked you to?”

This moment, the part of the cave next to them started glowing blue, and then spikes appeared out of the earth, surrounding them. It was so fast that no one had any time to move away or run. Just in a second, they were in a metallic cage which didn’t have any doors or any way to leave. Then, they heard a small and sad voice from behind one of the walls.

“I’m sorry I had to do this.”

Hughes shot a few times in the direction of the voice, while everyone else was trying to break the cage. They couldn’t – it looked metallic and very sturdy.

“So are you an alchemist?” Hughes asked furiously. “Let us go, we have a job to do.”

“I know, and I cannot allow you to. You see, if the Aerugians won’t be able to capture the hospital, they’ll be in a very weak position, having forces but nowhere to station them and no way to feed them in case supply lines will be severed. And Amestrian forces already had significantly affected their supply lines.”

“So are you a traitor then? What about all this talk about your home village and how you loved it? Was it all a lie?” Hughes said.

Robertson appeared from behind the wall, looking furious. And then, as everyone started shooting at him, he moved back, barely escaping the bullets.

“My home village? Don’t you dare talk about my home! It was destroyed, destroyed so many times because of this stupid war. Every second person I grew up with was killed during this war, and I cannot recall now how many of them were killed by Aerugian bullets and how many of them were killed by Amestrians. All my life I had to live in evacuations, in refugee centres, sleeping in tents while some soldiers on the front lines destroyed everything in my home. And these refugee centres… Oh God, the Amestrian soldiers always came there, looking for Ishvalans, and every single time I was praying that my dark skin wasn’t looking Ishvalan enough to them. My dad looked Ishvalan enough, by the way. So you can imagine what happened to him.”

Everyone inside the cage stood still now, not knowing what to answer. Then, Breda snapped out of it – he and Fuery were the only two soldiers in the group who weren’t ever to Ishval.

“So what, you decided to help the literal enemy soldiers? The people who the army was protecting you from? I’m sorry but I don’t see any logic here,” Breda said.

“Protecting us? Really? The whole war started because some ass in Amestria decided to capture these territories. And why? There aren’t any useful resources, only grass and animals. At least I know that if these territories go back to Aerugians, they won’t try to snatch any border territories from Amestris. Aerugo has been engaged in only one war since its creation, and it was the border war with Amestris. If you think of it, Amestris is the most fucking war-mongering country on the whole continent. It starts wars with everyone and even the civil wars inside. And every war is bloody, and no one ever cares about soldiers. Do you know that the Southern command is ordered not to exchange any captives? How many deaths this order alone brings, how do you think? 5% more? 10% more?”

“But we don’t have anything to do with it. Really, all we want to do is to save our commander, and he’s a good person.”

Robertson looked from behind the wall once again, his expression was pained. Then, he hastily moved back, barely escaping Hawkeye’s bullet.

“I know and I’ve heard of his heroism from our last radio transmission with the hospital. I’m really really sorry,” he was sounding sincere. “But sometimes people die, and all soldiers who leave for the war know it. He volunteered for this mission, so he was ready for this to happen. As for all of you, I asked you to come here because you have all the food and water here. I added a little bit more, so you’ll survive at least a week, though I think the General will notice and save you all earlier. I’m really sorry for having to do it.”

“What about Oliver? Don’t you care about him a bit?” this was Riza – and it was the first time anyone in this little group heard her sounding desperate.

“I’m so sorry about your commander. I feel the same way about Oliver as you do about Colonel Mustang… But he wouldn’t ever understand me, he’s full-heartedly and foolheartedly an Amestrian soldier. I’ll ask the Aerugians to keep him and the Colonel alive if they’ll be captured, but it’s all I can do. There’re no prisoner exchanges, and Oliver won’t ever be with me again after he learns about what I’ve done,” his voice was so pained now. Then he stopped as if trying to say something again, but he couldn’t, and then he just sobbed there.

For the first time in their lives, everyone here saw Riza also on the verge of crying.

“I just have to, you know?” Robertson continued once again. “When Amestris advanced, a lot of families got separated. My mum hasn’t seen her twin sister in 30 years. She doesn’t even know if she’s alive now… And another thing, I know you are all not religious, but frucionism is extremely important for everyone here. And there are temples. If you never visited a temple at least once in your life, then you are considered cursed in your afterlife. And I know, it’s not something you probably care about, but it’s important for my people. All temples remain in Aerugo. Every young person among us lives in fear of being cursed in the eternal life… My friend, when he learned that he had cancer, he cried so much – and mostly because he was sure that he’d never get his eternal salvation just because he couldn’t visit the temples. We managed to sneak him over the border, and he got back safely – but most of the people who do that rarely return alive. We’re not supposed to risk our lives to do something that is an integral part of our traditions. I’m very sorry, but you’ll have to understand.”

Robertson left a few seconds afterwards, and they stayed here, in a metallic cage, not seeing any way out. They didn’t exchange a single word, but everyone knew what they meant by the silence. They were fools for falling for his tricks, and it looked like the chance of saving Roy dwindled away every second, and they didn’t even know what happened to Armstrong and if he was alive now.

Then, Havoc broke his bottle in half and started using it to methodically dig the ground. Everyone followed with all instruments they had – forks, spoons, knives, even plates – anything that can be used to dig. The silent determination to escape as soon as possible settled around them.

-/

When Roy woke up the next time, it was dark. He was in a hospital room with an IV needle sticking out of his arm. The bracelets remained there, and he remembered as someone tried to remove them but he was moving away every time he heard a drill sound next to him, so that’s why they probably decided to leave them as they were. He shifted around, trying to remember where he was and how on Earth the hospital was not captured yet. Then, he remembered about the tunnel and his head filled with fluttering happiness when he decided that the tunnel must have been ready and that was why he had this opportunity to sleep while the hospital was attacked. The clock on the wall showed 03:08 and he thought darkly that he must have been sleeping almost 24 hours since yesterday’s morning because it didn’t look like it was the day outside. There was a stack of an oversized uniform on the stand next to him, so he put it on, removing his hospital gown. To be fair, any adult uniform was oversized for him now.

Then, he found his gloves and a spare pair of gloves someone brought here. Good, then probably Riza was here too if someone remembered that he constantly needed spare gloves. He left the room in the happy anticipation of meeting his team once again. Just to think that he was ready to die here!

But the corridor was empty. No one was here, no doctors, no soldiers, just no one. The boxes without ammunition remained here too, the instant reminder of the battle waging outside. Then, he moved down the stairs, noting that there wasn’t anyone here too. Why wouldn’t his team meet him? Wouldn’t they want to see how _alive_ he was? But on the other hand, Riza must have been sour because he asked to imprison her… Well, maybe it was for the better that they didn’t meet him, as he wasn’t in the mood to face his First Lieutenant’s rage ever again.

When he left the hospital and looked down at the battle, it was terrible.

Just terrible.

All his soldiers were here, fighting for their lives. Some didn’t have any ammunition left, so they were fighting with the knives, other didn’t even have knives, so they helped around – by taking care of injuries or building the floors of the trenches. Right, the floors. He was building them but then he fainted, not finishing the job, so now the soldiers also had to do something about it. But on the other hand, the trenches were as good as when Roy built them, so in this case, he actually helped his soldiers. He looked once again, focusing, and finally admitting to himself that there wasn’t any sign of his team in sight. Why was it? Did he miscalculate when they were supposed to arrive? Did he misread the time on the clock? Or – his heart clenched at the thought of it, fear almost eating him alive – or did something bad happen to them when they were building the tunnel? Sure, building a tunnel was a difficult task for anyone, and they didn’t have any experience in it. What if there were explosive gases in the atmosphere? What if any alchemic equation went wrong and they were now somewhere under earth, rubble falling at them? Roy snapped out of it, deciding to trust in the well-being of his team. He needed to trust that they’ll survive, or he wouldn’t be able to survive himself.

He moved in the direction of trenches decisively, with the confidence of a commander. When the soldiers looked at him, he realized that they must have been fighting non-stop for the last 24 hours. They all looked exhausted, with bloodshot eyes and dark expression on the faces. Everyone there knew that they wouldn’t survive, so they wanted to die heroically, killing as many Aerugians as possible before they died.

Roy moved to the Lieutenant, asking for the report of last events.

“We finished with the evacuation of the hospital personnel and the patients. 3 injured, 1 soldier fainted of exhaustion – he was working for the last 48 hours, Sir. We have 3 full boxes of ammunition left.”

“Right,” Roy stopped, making calculations in his head. “Which means we have ammunition for only half-day for half of the soldiers left. The tunnel?” he asked, trying to conceal the hopefulness in his voice.

“No signs of any tunnels around, Sir. They haven’t answered our radio transmissions since yesterday morning, Sir.”

“And now is?”

“Three in the morning, Sir. It was more than 17 hours since when the tunnel must have been ready.”

Roy looked away, trying to hide how scared he was for his team. Hell, he couldn’t even die heroically like a normal person, he needed to drag his people with him. What if they were already dead, and he didn’t even know? Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The next part of his plan was to save the soldiers, and he sincerely promised to do everything in his power to see them finish the mission alive. It was time for a new order.

“Lieutenant, gather everyone who worked more than 24 hours – every soldier who wasn’t in the night shift yesterday but still had to work. Also, pick all injured from any shift. You have 5 minutes. And ask Higgins to come here.”

He moved in the trenches, searching for the best position to use his alchemy. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining anymore, so he was free to use as much flame alchemy as he wanted. Then, he snapped at the Aerugian soldiers who were fighting to get inside the trenches – the Aerugians, seeing the fiasco with trenches, decided to attack more actively. Then, Lieutenant appeared again, with a group of soldiers and Higgins behind him.

“You wanted to see me, Mustang?” Higgins asked.

“Right. Take all these soldiers and leave, using the mountain path. You should leave all the ammunition to us, except for 5 bullets per person. You’ll fire a signal in the air once you reach the safe place. I also hope that we’ll have a radio connection with you, so you could signal per radio too…”

“Stop, Mustang, what do you mean?” Higgins looked confused now. “Why would we need to leave the hospital now, there’re no ways we could help from the mountains.”

“No, you’re leaving for the Southern command. We don’t have ammunition for all soldiers anyway. These soldiers have been working for the last 48 hours, so they wouldn’t be of much help either…”

“So you expect to hold off the Aerugians while we escape? There’s no way you could do it, and I’m not escaping like some coward, Mustang!”

Roy snapped at the next Aerugian attacker, melancholically watching how fires encompassed the soldier’s body. He grimaced, sensing the burning flesh in the air. Then he snapped again and again until no Aerugians were in sight. He could hear the remaining Aerugians shouting something about retreating.

“See, I’m not that useless, after all. And you should have woken me up instead of trying to fight on your own.”

“You were practically in a coma, and now you want to fight again? Hell no, Mustang. You look like you’ll die of exhaustion in an hour or so.”

Roy smiled, and then looked at Higgins firmly.

“You seem to have an impression that you have a say in my orders. But you don’t. Take the soldiers and leave. There’s no need for all of you to die here, right?” Higgins wanted to object but Roy didn’t give him a chance to. “As I said. An order. Leave now.”

Higgins and other soldiers left soon, saluting when they were leaving. There was a sad acceptance in these salutes. They didn’t expect anyone in Roy’s group to survive, and they didn’t really believe that they’ll be able to leave before Aerugians advance enough to capture them, but they were leaving because of Roy’s orders.

Roy watched the retreating soldiers in the determination to at least save them. He also ordered to have a radio transmitter around and was using it from time to time, trying to reach his team.

“Anyone? Colonel Roy Mustang speaking. Answer, anyone. Please, answer. Please. Please, be alive.”

-/

A day. They spent a whole day in the cage, methodically trying to dig to the outside world, and now everyone felt desperate.

They started feeling desperate after they realized that the bars of the cage were reaching out deep underground. At first, it was Hughes who instead of digging in the middle of the cage, started digging around one of the bars. And then deeper and deeper, until everyone saw that the bars didn’t look like they had an end. Then, Havoc dug deeper underground only to realize that deep there, there was stone. Havoc still continued digging, his hands bleeding from so much effort, but the stone didn’t crack even a little bit. Then, Hughes tried to cut the bars with his knife, but it wasn’t working either, the knife leaving almost no trace on the bars, however he tried. At some point, Maes threw his knife out, frustrated with the lack of progress, and then he had to spend another hour trying to get his knife back.

But the worst part of it was the radio. It was emitting signals constantly, as the soldiers at the hospital tried to reach them and were slowly losing hope with every new failed transmission. The radio was outside their cell, not reachable, however they tried. It was depressing, being able to hear the cries for help but not being able to say anything in response and not having any way to help. The signals stopped somewhere closer to the night, and they were sitting there, in silence, not knowing what to do.

This looked like a full defeat.

“Why didn’t I check if he was an alchemist?” Maes said, sounding desperate. “All I did was look for the guns and knives, but all he needed was one array on the floor. Fucking superheroes, aren’t they?”

“It’s not your fault,” this was Riza and her gentle voice this time sounded muffled, barely recognizable. “There were no records of his alchemic abilities in any military databases. There were no ways for you to know. After all, we’re used to alchemists showcasing every single one of their skills.”

“He must have been concealing his abilities to get into Southern command, as the General hates alchemists… And frucionists don’t like the alchemists either, so he must have been very good at concealing it. It’s really not your fault, Lieutenant Colonel,” Breda said.

“Hughes. Call me Hughes. We may as well spend another week there, so we should all get less official.”

This time, the radio was speaking again.

“Anyone? Colonel Roy Mustang speaking,” everyone looked around, hopeful and desperate at the same time. No one admitted it the day before, but the lack of Roy’s voice in any previous transmissions was scary. This time, he clearly was alive. But for how long? And the desperation in their commander’s voice… He was worried about them, and there wasn’t anything they could do to send a signal back. Nor they could send any signals to the General to request a rescue mission. And the General didn’t know that they were expected to finish earlier, so he won’t have any concerns for another day.

“Roy, just hold up. Just a day. At least a day, please,” Hughes murmured to himself rather than anyone around him.

-/

It was 10 in the morning of the next day, when Roy heard a signal rocket somewhere deep in the mountains. Higgins and his people were safe, then. Good, he managed to get at least half of his people to safety.

This night was difficult for Roy and everyone around him. They somehow managed to survive, but it was almost an unbelievable outcome, with the catastrophic lack of ammunition and soldiers becoming more exhausted by day. At the moment, Roy and the Lieutenant were personally responding to every attack, as no one else had any bullets left. Roy was glad that he got some 20 hours of sleep the day before, or otherwise he would be completely useless there.

When there was a pause in the Aerugian attacks, Roy gestured the Lieutenant to listen to him.

“Lieutenant, take the remaining soldiers and leave. I’ll hold off as long as I can.”

The Lieutenant looked at him unbelievingly.

“Hell no, _Sir_. I’m not assisting your suicide, and everyone here wants to fight with everything they’ve got.”

“Suicide? Seriously?” Roy exhaled in frustration. “It’s just either I alone die here or everyone else. I’ll hold off long enough, don’t worry about it. Once there’re no other Amestrian soldiers, I can use as much fire alchemy as I want, without risking your lives.”

“What about the tunnel? Don’t you want to survive long enough for them to save you?”

Roy paused, thinking about it. He trusted his team and he knew that the only reason for them to not finish in time, nor message them about their status, was something they couldn’t control. Now, all he could do was to protect those soldiers he could actually protect and just hope that everyone in his own team survived. And if the Lieutenant wasn’t willing to follow orders, then he’ll just order all soldiers personally.

Roy created another wall in front of the trenches, in hopes of stopping the Aerugians from advancing at least until he gives the order. He gestured all soldiers to come to him.

“Everyone, listen. I order all of you to leave the hospital. You’ll have to move through the mountain path as fast as you can. It’s day now, so you should be faster than Higgins and his group. I’ll try to hold them off but don’t think that I’ll be doing it long enough. We have another signal rocket left, so you’ll launch it in the air, once you’re safe. And, if you see the General, please, ask him to send someone to the tunnels. He’ll know what I’m talking about. Understood?”

Soldiers looked at each other, as if not believing in what was happening.

“But Sir, what about you?” one of the soldiers asked. Roy recognized the private who was getting beaten for being an Aerugian captive. Ian, was it?

“It’s none of your concerns, private. Dismissed.”

Soldiers gathered around him, looking solemn. Then, they collected their guns and looked at him once again, with sadness. Roy remembered the look Higgins gave him yesterday, so he shrugged, imagining what an eyesore he was now, probably, in an oversized uniform, with metallic bracelets, dishevelled hairs, rings under his eyes, sunken cheeks…

Then, every single one of soldiers saluted him. There was respect in their eyes.

“Sir, we’ll make sure to let everyone know what you did for us,” said one of the soldiers, and other nodded. Then, they marched away.

The Lieutenant stayed.

Roy looked at him questioningly, gesturing him to join other soldiers. But he just shook his head.

“I’m staying and I don’t care about your orders, Sir. I can still fight, and two of us have more chances of holding off the Aerugians than only you alone.”

“No, you’re leaving. I promised that I’ll personally see to it that everyone survives.”

“You are greedy, aren’t you, Colonel Mustang?”

“What?”

“When we left for this mission, my boyfriend was crying the whole day long – he didn’t expect me to survive. He was cursing at the government so much, that if I heard it from anyone else, I’d reported them. Some of the soldiers had their funerals organized and they personally created lists of guests for these funerals. The notaries in the area had so much business going on with the wills of the soldiers and the hospital staff… And then you come waltzing and just save everyone! And now, you’re complaining that you were not able to save every single soldier. Really, Colonel?”

“There’s no need for you to stay…” just as Roy was saying it, the Lieutenant shot at an Aerugian soldier who was approaching from the other side. Then at another. Roy noticed neither of them.

So the Lieutenant stayed, and Roy didn’t say anything about it. Survival of all remaining soldiers depended on them holding off the Aerugians long enough for them to reach a safe destination. And, even after hours of sleep, Roy was still too exhausted to see all the threats or be focused enough to address all of them. They needed to fight together, and as long as they fought, there was a chance for their soldiers to survive.

-/

The night passed, then at least half of the day. They didn’t have clocks, so they didn’t know exactly. Even though they had quite a lot of space and even a separate room for a makeshift toilet, they still felt like the bars of their cage were choking them. So they were speaking as much as possible, just to keep everyone in check. Unlike yesterday, they also were eating all their ratios. At least in this case, Robertson wasn’t lying – he actually left enough food and water for them to survive long enough for the rescue mission to reach them.

“Elicia’s birthday is soon…” Hughes said. He was sitting there, with half of his ratio unfinished, and holding his knees somewhat defensively. Everyone could see how he was getting more and more depressed. Especially now when they didn’t hear any transmissions from the hospital for several hours. In the last transmission, Roy happily informed them that half of the soldiers in the hospital was safe now, and another half was moving to safety. Everyone in the Mustang’s team knew what wasn’t being said in this cheerful transmission. They could hear exhaustion in the Colonel’s voice. They could hear that there were no other voices around him in this last transmission. So they knew what happened, and they actually half expected something like this to happen. Choosing between the risks to his subordinates and to his own life, Roy always chose risking his own life. This was one of the reasons they were so loyal to him in the first place, but this also was a reason why they needed to reach the hospital as soon as possible to save their commander. And now, they didn’t have any ways to do it.

“And Roy was… kind of manipulating me into inviting him to Elicia’s birthday party, you know?” Hughes continued. “Like he didn’t admit that he wanted to come, but he also mentioned that there was an alchemic conference in Central he was interested in and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go. So I was organizing the party and compiling the guest list and was about to call Roy about it, and then I’ve got Riza’s call. I mean, he wouldn’t ever willingly visit any conferences, you know what I’m talking about.” At that, Riza smiled, remembering how she had to threaten Roy into visiting a mandatory alchemic conference, and she had to use at least 5 bullets before he finally agreed. He found them useless, and they probably were – alchemists weren’t very generous about sharing their knowledge, so anything that got to the conference stage was already a common knowledge.

“And I told Elicia about Roy coming, and she was so happy… Sometimes I feel that she loves her ‘Uncle Roy’ more than me,” he hitched, his throat bobbled, and everyone could see that he was on the verge of tears. “What am I going to tell her now? If she knew and understood what happened, she’d never forgive me.”

“What if he surrenders?” Fuery said, and he sounded hopeful. “Robertson said that he’ll ask the Aerugians to keep them alive, right? So all he needs is to surrender.”

At this, Hawkeye and Hughes looked at each other.

“No, he won’t surrender willingly,” Hawkeye told apologetically, as if she was to blame for it. “He would be afraid to give away flame alchemy secrets under torture, so he wouldn’t allow it to happen.”

“But there should be anything… Anything that he could do, right?” Fuery looked at everyone around him. They didn’t look him in the eyes. And then, he understood that he was the only one left who felt hopeful. Everyone else emitted an acceptance. They were mournful. Then, at last, Hughes looked up, with the same acceptance in his eyes.

“Unless there’s something we don’t know about – some unknown variables, then the outcome is clear. Thinking otherwise would mean to deceive ourselves.”

Unlike Roy, Hughes didn’t like to deceive anyone or manipulate anyone into a good mood until it’d be too late. So he was straight and clear with everyone around him. There wasn’t any hope left.

-/

Roy didn’t have a single chance to look at his pocket watch, but he felt like about 5 hours passed since they let the last group of soldiers go. He and the Lieutenant were still holding off – albeit barely. The Aerugians noticed that there weren’t any soldiers left in the trenches except Roy and the Lieutenant, and they doubled their efforts. Roy could only assume that he and the Lieutenant haven’t been killed yet because the Aerugians didn’t want to get burned to ashes, and their snipers couldn’t hit them behind the veil of smoke.

He was soaked in the scent of smoke and burning flesh. It was difficult to breath, sometimes even to see, and all he could see was fire, bullets, soldiers, and destruction. He was fighting automatically, not really comprehending what was happening around him. All soldiers around looked the same. The ground looked the same in all directions – burned and cracked, a lunar landscape – the result of his fire alchemy. He was snapping at everything that moved around him, and his alchemy was becoming just like him – erratic, uncontrolled, sometimes burning much more than necessary, and sometimes not working at all.

The physical toll of fighting was enormous too. Roy couldn’t feel his fingers anymore and he had to change the gloves halfway through the fight because his first pair was soaked wet with blood on his fingers. He couldn’t stand on his legs anymore, and he was leaning heavily on the walls of trenches for support. He knew that his hours were counted. If Aerugians launched into a direct attack at him, then he’d be done. If a sniper saw them through the smoke, then he’d be done too. And he felt like even if he survived for another few hours, then he’d die of exhaustion. The Lieutenant was quite exhausted too, but he was holding off. Roy ordered him once to surrender to the enemy, but he didn’t listen, so Roy knew quite well what his fate was going to be too. Their fate was decided the minute they stepped on the soil of the Fostet hill.

The battle was a good distraction for not thinking about his team. He didn’t have time for a new transmission either, but he wasn’t a fool. He could see that there weren’t any signs of tunnels or additional forces around. The radio was silent too. He also knew that his team wouldn’t ever leave him fight against the whole army alone. If they had to overcome any hindrances in their quest to get to him, then they’d do it in a second, whatever it’d cost them. So the only reason for them not being there was something they couldn’t overcome. Were they dead? Were they unconscious? Were they trapped somewhere underground? Roy would ask the General for help, but the radio was set to the frequency of those in the tunnel, and Roy didn’t know how to adjust it so he could reach the General. The uncertainty and his inability to help them was killing him. He wished he did more to stop Riza from learning about this mission, and he wished that he never allowed them to start this stupid tunnel in the first place. But hey, no one ever listened to him unless he manipulated them.

Suddenly, he heard a bullet whistling past him. He felt something wet and warm dripping on his sleeve. He looked to the left and saw the Lieutenant, standing awkwardly, holding his chest. A stain of blood was forming on his uniform, clutched by automail hands. The Lieutenant was grasping for air. Seeing his subordinate injured, Roy felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Roy snapped once again, forming a large ring of fire around the trenches. Then, he removed his gloves and turned to the Lieutenant to help him. Roy tried to stop the bleeding but there was so much blood that he couldn’t see the extent of the injury. It couldn’t be… There couldn’t be such a big hole in someone’s chest, right? He put on his gloves once again and looked at the Lieutenant.

“Lieutenant, I’ll cauterize the injury. Hold on.”

“No…” the Lieutenant’s voice was weak, and when he was speaking, there were bloody bubbles forming on the corners of his mouth. “That’s it. There’s no way for you to stop it. Let me die in peace.”

Rest in peace? What a bullshit concept! Roy wanted to cauterize the wound anyway and stopped only when the Lieutenant grasped his hand with a sincere look on his face.

“Too much pain. Please.”

Roy had hard time accepting what was about to happen. He knew it’d eventually happen, but how he could just sit there and not do anything? But then, he realized that even if he cauterized the wound, then the Lieutenant would die anyway – there wasn’t any way to get medical assistance. All it’d bring would be more suffering to the Lieutenant. Finally, he nodded, agreeing. He wanted to say something else, but his breath hitched. He assured himself that it was because of the exhaustion.

“Colonel…” the Lieutenant was speaking slowly. Now, he had to stop after every word to take an erratic breath. “You should surrender yourself. Please.”

For a minute, Roy contemplated if he could surrender the Lieutenant. This was a weird idea, but theoretically, the Aerugians may give him the medical assistance he needed, so that they could get any valuable information from him later. In reality, it was a terrible idea. There was no way Aerugians would take care of the Lieutenant in the heat of the battle, and there was no way for Roy to organize the surrender of the Lieutenant without getting captured himself. As for himself, there was no way he could allow them to take him captive. From his time at the Academy, he heard about terrible interrogation techniques used on prisoners of war. Statistically, 99% of prisoners of war cracked under the torture, and Roy didn’t believe that he was special enough not to crack. Yet, there was a secret he needed to conceal at any cost. Surrendering wasn’t an option, and he was sure about it.

“No, I cannot. The soldiers have not signalled yet. You know how if we let Aerugians past us, even a single cannonball can destroy the whole mountain path or cause a landslide. We should hold off until the signal comes,” he gracefully omitted that he’d not surrender even if he saw the signal.

The Lieutenant looked like he wanted to object, but he couldn’t now. He started grasping for air more often, and blood on his chest didn’t seem to stop. Roy looked away, unable to see his suffering. Thankfully, the Aerugians were advancing again, and he could focus on them. Then, he heard the Lieutenant speaking once again, his voice weak, and words barely recognizable now.

“I’m glad that I’m there, with you. It’s a good way to die”.

“Oh, really?” Roy forced himself to smile – he didn’t want the Lieutenant to see how painful it was for him to see him die. “So you like me, after all, don’t you?” Roy said with a smug smile.

“Not ‘like’ you like you though you’re not too bad,” Lieutenant collected himself and then smiled. “What I meant was that it’s good to die next to fire.”

Roy knew that this was a frucionism thing, to like fire, and he’d be glad to provide as much fire as needed to the Lieutenant. If only there was a way fire could save lives.

Lieutenant’s breathing became very shallow. He almost wasn’t breathing at all. His face had a peaceful smile, and Roy would leave it that way, but he couldn’t.

“Please. Please. Please,” he could hear himself saying, but he was detached to what he was saying and what he was doing. He tried to wake up the Lieutenant with one hand and was snapping with another. His mind did the calculations he couldn’t comprehend anymore. He knew that his hours were counted too, but it was an instinct to do anything to prolong his soldier’s life, so he continued waking up the Lieutenant.

Then, he heard no breathing anymore. At first, he was surprised at how he noticed it – in the middle of the fight, barely managing to be conscious anymore. He was thankful that the course of actions in these situations was drilled into him.

Right, if someone’s not breathing, then there’s still a chance to save them. He just had to try. He snapped, creating a large ring of fire around trenches, to stop the Aerugian attacks for now. Then, he started doing heart compression.

One compression.

Then, trying to breath instead of him, so mouth-to-mouth.

Compression once again.

The guidelines said that he also had to look out for the danger around him, but this guideline was ridiculous in this situation.

In a few minutes he realized that it wasn’t working.

Maybe he wasn’t doing it right. Maybe, the Lieutenant was unsalvageable. Maybe he just wasn’t strong enough anymore to save anyone. But he had to face it – it didn’t work.

He snapped once again, seeing as the fire ring around the trenches was dwindling. Then, he closed Lieutenant’s eyes, accepting what just happened. This was going to happen to both of them anyway, right? He didn’t accept that he was crying himself, tears falling on the Lieutenant’s still body.

He felt so lonely. At least, he hoped for a fast and painless death with someone next to him, but no – he had to watch his subordinate die instead and he had to die alone now, probably slowly and of exhaustion.

And he was fine with dying. He deserved it. But why couldn’t he get at least a single sign about what happened to his team before it? Why couldn’t he get something so small yet _necessary_? How could he die, not knowing what happened to his team? Not knowing if they were safe? Not trying to help them once again?

He saw the radio nearby. He snapped once again, created the fire ring around the trenches once again, and dragged himself to the radio. He couldn’t walk anymore, so he crawled. When he reached the radio, he started frantically searching for the Southern command frequency, for anything. It didn’t work. On all channels, there was static. If only he knew at least a tiny bit of information about radios... What did Ed tell about Truth? Was there an option to exchange a body part for knowledge of radio?

Roy turned the radio back as it was, at the same frequency which connected to the tunnel. At least he could message his team. He pressed the button he was itching to reach for hours before that. ‘Send’.

“Hey”, he didn’t allow himself to think that this may be a transmission to nowhere or to bodies trapped somewhere deep underground, poisoned by underground gases or twisted in an explosion. He didn’t allow himself to sound depressed or desperate even though he was both of these things now. “This is the weather report from Fostet hill. It’s sunny today, with no clouds and rain. Occasional fire storms may have been noticed in the surrounding area, and these firestorms were beautiful.”

He snapped once again, rising the ring of fire further around the trenches. He cleared his throat and continued with a cheerful voice.

“In other news, one Colonel Roy Mustang has perfected an ideal strategy for tank warfare and considers publishing a book called ‘Tank warfare for dummies, Colonel Higgins included’ which will be available in every bookstore of Amestris in the near future,” he wanted to add something about the book cover with a moustached drawing of a ‘fool’ looking exactly like Colonel Higgins but then the radio fell out of his trembling hands. Right, it was difficult to hold anything when he barely felt his fingers anymore. He reached out his hand, and tried to pick the radio once again, but his hands refused to cooperate. Instead, he dragged himself closer to the radio. “If you’re interested in local sight-seeing in Fostet, then there’s a beautiful 16th century fortress built in the style of Medieval functionalism. You’d be impressed with its grey stones and quadratic shape.”

He paused, hoping for an answer. He knew that if there’d be a chance for his team to answer, they’d answer a long time ago, but he couldn’t help hoping for at least something. Anything, please. His breath hitched when he didn’t hear any response. He didn’t even know if the radio was working at all. But there was no way on earth that he didn’t _trust_ his team to survive, even in the most difficult circumstances. He said the next words with the determination of someone who believed in everyone he was addressing.

“Hughes, Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman, Fuery, Armstrong,” he said, conveying his trust and love to all of them. “If you can hear me, do your best to survive. I trust you as much. It’s an order. You have to survive.”

He left the radio where it was, not having enough energy to support the fire ring around the trenches anymore. He returned to his trance-like state – fighting without comprehending, killing without even understanding if he killed anyone. Now he fought alone and knowing that lives of many soldiers depended on him, he was determined to hold off the Aerugians until he hears the signal.

It was at least another half an hour when he saw the sky somewhere far in the mountains flashing yellow, and he smiled. This was it. The soldiers were saved. He had the right to rest now. He did all he could, didn’t he? It was a difficult mission, but he saved as many people as he could. Soldiers were saved. Patients were saved. Hospital staff was saved. And his team… They had to be safe. They had to survive because good people deserved to live, and it’d be unfair if he got what he deserved but then they died too.

Before resting for good, he decided to do one last thing. He decided to move Lieutenant’s body to the big red tree further from the trenches. The Lieutenant at least deserved that his body won’t be left in these shallow trenches without anyone to come after him. He knew at the same time, that his own body wasn’t strong enough to hold even something so light as a radio. Instead, he drew another array on the ground, manipulating the ground to drag the Lieutenant’s body to the tree. He decided to follow himself. This time, he snapped, once again creating a ring of fire around the trenches. Then, he started crawling to the tree. Slowly, using all his remaining energy. It felt like the longest journey he ever made.

When he finally reached the tree, he was stunned by it – In the desert-like battlefield, it was amazing to see anything alive. And the tree was beautiful. Bright red, with a broad crown and dark brown branches, it was a perfect place for the eternal rest. They both would stay there, for the rest of their lives. There was something poetic in it, and Roy found himself completely accepting of his own fate. He sat next to the Lieutenant’s body, leaning on the tree. He looked at the battlefield once again and saw how the ring of fire was disappearing. In a few minutes or so, Aerugians will attack. Maybe in half an hour, if Aerugians fear any traps… So he had at least a few minutes of peace before he’d have to die.

Was there anything good in his life? All he ever accomplished was part of his military career, and all he was praised for were crimes. Yes, he saved people and he protected those around him but at the end of the day, nothing he did would ever atone for the atrocities he committed. For being a coward who agreed to use the secret trusted to him to follow unthinkable orders. And now, he was finding his end somewhere in another war, following other orders. Huh, and he wanted to change things… He was a naïve fool after all, wasn’t he? Just a little insect, arrogant enough to think that he had control. Well, a soldier never decides what’s going to happen to him. A weapon doesn’t have a say at what it’ll be fired at.

Roy smiled. Was it how his father felt when he was leaving for the Western war and Roy followed him, blabbing about ways to win the war and kill more Aerugians?

He probably was 2 years older than Elicia now. His father had been feeling down for some time before that – he was this way all the time after his mother left for Xing. There were nights when Roy woke up hearing sobs in the nearby bedroom and then whole days when his father forgot to feed him. There were even more nights when his father was drinking and drinking and drinking and then his father sent him after additional whisky to the Aunt. ‘Family history of alcohol abuse’ was it? The way the military psychiatrists referred to it in his health records. And his Aunt was perfect. She knew he’d get beaten for not bringing alcohol with him, so she gave it to him, and she gave him food and sweets and talked about anything he wanted to ask her…

So when his father dropped him at his Aunt, he was excited. He was also excited because of the uniform. He loved the uniform. He still did. Its blue colours, the fear and respect in people’s eyes when they saw people in the uniform. He liked touching it, its warm blue wool. And his father had enough uniform for him to play with, so he was happy. He also liked that his father finally got a job instead of sitting home whole day, occasionally helping the neighbours with his alchemy. Much later, he’d ask himself if his father’s reasons for volunteering to front lines were anything like his, or was it just a way for him to finally kill himself?

When the time came for his father to leave – he left for the train station nearby, walking by foot – Roy ran after him as long as he could. And he asked questions and gave advice because he felt like the smartest boy on earth.

“Cretans are evil, dad. You have to kill as many as you can!”

His dad didn’t say anything, just started walking faster. Roy was excited. His dad was in uniform and he had a job and his job was a good one.

“You have to shoot them right in the eyes, dad! Just like that,” and he showed with his hands, where his dad had to shoot.

“Or maybe use your bayonet if you’re close to them or kick them. Like this,” and he kicked the air in front of him as strongly as he could.

“Or a bomb! Bombs are so cool, dad! You have to use one and you’ll kill a lot of them,” he smiled, imagining bombs, their explosions and _fire_.

His dad stopped, and looked at him, and his expression was so painful, that Roy couldn’t understand why he hurt. Did he feel something in his stomach? Or was it again in his heart, like when mum left? But why would he, Roy was giving a useful advice. His father looked like he wanted to say something in response, but then he hesitated. And then he just didn’t say anything. He only hugged Roy forcefully, like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Roy never saw his father again. His name was in one of these papers in the lists in the back – they didn’t even get a single letter about his death. The funeral was big because everyone else from his squad was dead too. Everyone was crying, and Roy stood there, wondering if his father was a good soldier and if he killed enough Cretans to be proud of him.

Well, now Roy was dying a good soldier in his young self eyes, wasn’t he? Just in this mission alone, he probably killed so many people. He was burning people the entire night and the day before, and he did it so much, that he was dying out of exhaustion because he did it.

Would all these people who he killed also end up in some newspaper in the list in the back? In a mass grave, with caskets concealing the burned bodies or whatever was left there? Were there other children somewhere in Aerugo finding it _okay_ to be left with their Aunts and not feeling too depressed about their parents’ deaths? Or were there countless mournful families, forever broken by his alchemy? One thing he knew for sure was that there wasn’t any way that he could allow anyone else use such a destructive power. It had to die out. Now.

He looked up to see the Aerugians advancing. They were very close now. Roy was sitting here, waiting for them to arrive. He couldn’t allow them to capture him alive. And the Lieutenant there said that it was good to die next to fire.

The decision came to him, easy and clear. There’ll be as much fire as the Lieutenant could imagine. The fire would be everywhere. And he won’t be captured alive, whatever happens next.

So, he snapped.

The fire encompassed everything he could see.

-/

General Rawls watched his soldiers arrive. They were all extremely exhausted, with bloodshot eyes and in muddy clothes. And they were alive. All but two of them. There were 38 soldiers more than he expected to see returned, and he was overjoyed. But soldiers’ expressions were solemn, and they all walked directly to the parade ground. Rawls knew exactly why they were here. From the parade ground, they could see the Fostet hill far away in the mountains.

Some time after the rocket was launched – the soldiers who launched it were still in the mountains, too exhausted to keep up with everyone else – the fire emerged in the Fostet hospital. It was big. Much bigger than Rawls could imagine ever seeing. It seemingly easily encompassed everything in Fostet, and then launched further in all directions. Unlike the explosions which happened from time to time in Fostet, these fires were behaving like they were living on their own, like there wasn’t anyone controlling them.

All soldiers on the parade ground saluted, Rawls included. They saluted to the man who saved them today.

Then, Rawls looked at his aide.

“Report to the Central command that the Flame alchemist, Colonel Roy Mustang, died heroically today, protecting his soldiers.”

Everyone saluted once again, now mournfully.


	8. Chapter 8

Ed was feeling impatient. He finally got a lead on the philosopher’s stone. Any other alchemist may have brushed over a little footnote at the end of the handwritten notes of a little-known plant alchemist, but Ed decoded it and learned that a) someone already created a philosopher’s stone and b) there’s a symbol for sun in the alchemic array to create the philosopher’s stone. This was _big_. Ed itched to start researching into the existing alchemic arrays with suns in them and maybe even try them out.

And of course, Mustang had to _spoil_ everything.

Every single time he had a new clue, Mustang had to interfere and create a new assignment for him out of his ass. Now, he managed to send for him by _mail_ like he was an item from a mail-order catalogue.

So now, in the train to the Southern command, Ed decided to spend a little bit more time to write a very _bad_ report for Mustang. He could have easily written a good and clear report in no time, but Mustang deserved something of the worst quality possible.

Ed was writing on a minuscule piece of paper in the most illegible handwriting he could possibly produce. Right now, he was very focused. There were not so many ways to describe the weather, and he was determined to use every single one of them.

_“C. Before I start my report, I would like to take a note of the weather in Urd. O. It was mostly sunny, and, in the attachment, the reader of this report can find the temperature overview for every day of the assignment.”_

_“L. I witnessed cirrus, cirrostratus and altostratus clouds in the sky throughout my work. O. The drawing of clouds will be attached to this report.”_

Every single sentence of his weather description started with letters that would eventually spell out “COLONEL BASTARD”. He didn’t even try to conceal his ‘code’ – he specifically selected sentences that didn’t start with these letters. Well, Mustang was quite stupid, so Ed needed to create a very obvious code if he expected him to decode it.

“Brother,” Al’s soulfire eyes looked at him seriously. “Maybe you should write a better report this time? Last time, Colonel wasn’t happy.”

Ed grinned, imagining how furious Mustang will be when he’ll see a more detailed weather description than in his previous report. And Ed thought that he outdid himself last time when his report included mostly weather descriptions and only a few sentences about the assignment itself. Mustang even requested an additional report with an _attachment_. So now, he’ll get his attachments and even more. This is what you get for insisting that only a _farmer_ boy from _Barntown Haystackvillage_ would take note of weather for his mission report – and only in order to keep track of when to plant potatoes.

“You know, Mustang can’t do anything about my reports, right?” Ed said, leaning back on his seat and confidently placing his hands behind his head. “He likes his promotions, and I do my job. So he’s stuck with my reports as long as he keeps being an asshole.”

“Brother!”

“What, I say as it is. He calls us to the middle of nowhere just when we start making progress with the philosopher’s stone! Hell, there isn’t even a single library in the whole Southern command. I guess he specifically selected an only town without a library in the entire Amestris to show off how much control he has over us.”

Al didn’t look convinced. Well, his brother was a good-hearted person, and he wanted to believe in the good in other people... Which was a great quality per se, but it wasn’t a good attitude when dealing with someone as manipulative and self-obsessed as Mustang.

“But we are a week late, brother! And I was telling you that you should check your mail just like the Colonel asks us every time. This letter says it’s urgent. So no, I don’t see how writing _another_ bad report would help anything.”

“Whatever,” now, Ed crossed his legs and looked out of the window with a bored gaze. “He could have called us if he really needed us.”

“You know exactly why he couldn’t call us. Or did you forget about the telephone station?” Al asked with a stern voice.

Right, the telephone station.

Ed accidentally… Kind of… A little bit destroyed it? This thug was running right next to it, and the telephone station conveniently had the metal to create the spear. Ed captured the thug and retrieved all the money the thug stole from the local bank, so at the end of the day, he was a hero, right? And he fixed the phone station just a few days later. So nothing to make the fuss over.

“Don’t sweat it, Al. Nothing could have happened in just a week. Mustang’s lazy ass is probably still writing the mission plan, so we should be just in time.”

-/

It was quite strange that the building of the Southern command was surrounded by journalists. From all newspapers, at that – “People’s Voice”, “Truth of Amestris”, “The Star of Central” – you name it. Ed quickly manoeuvred around them, for the first time in his life happy that people rarely recognized him as a state alchemist. Al followed him, accidentally running into their cameras and managing to look as apologetic as a suit of armour could look like. Ed darkly thought that this reception would be yet another thing Mustang will have to answer for – when Ed finally finds his lazy ass somewhere in the Southern command.

Inside the Southern command, Ed approached the first soldier he saw. He wanted to end all of this quickly.

“’m Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist,” he flashed his pocket watch. “Where is the office of Colonel Mustang?”

“Fullmetal Alchemist?” the soldier stared at him disbelievingly, and Ed felt his blood boil at the implications of this stare. How. Dare. He. Think. That. I. Am. Short?! But the soldier quickly stopped staring and reported back in a lifeless tone.

“As far as I know, he’s…” the soldier paused, looking uncomfortable, and then finished: “…on a field assignment, Sir.” The soldier made a salute, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

Ed grinned.

“On a field assignment, did you say? What, do they have paperwork on field assignments, now?”

“Brother!”

But Ed felt like he was in an especially good form today, so he continued.

“What, Al? What kind of field assignment do you think they could have given him? Participating in a competition for who can make the most short jokes in a minute?”

This time, the private interfered.

“Sir, please, other soldiers may hear you,” the private started looking around, as if in fear of something bad happening.

“Or competitive procrastination?” Ed grinned even wider, feeling that this one was especially successful. “Or a competition for who burns down the cafeteria in the Central Command?”

“This was supposed to be a secret!” Al interfered, looking uncomfortable. “Please, stop. We’re indebted to him. And last time in the cafeteria, it was not only he who started the fire.”

Leave it to Al to be honest and just to people… Well, it wasn’t Ed’s fault that the Colonel was a pyromaniac who was ready to start fires everywhere and for any reason. Yes, Ed also started a fire that day, as the whole purpose of starting fires was to prove that any lighter could do as good of a job as Colonel Matchstick’s alchemy, but who knew that the cafeteria wasn’t the best place for the competitive fire-starting?

“Yeah, of course,” Ed shrugged like he didn’t care – and he didn’t actually care. “Let’s go, Al. We should look for him in supply closets because the last three times I needed him, I found him sleeping in there.”

But they didn’t manage to walk even a few steps when they saw a general appear in front of them. Specifically, one very old and _furious_ general. Ed saluted lazily, noting that Al and the private also saluted behind him.

“At ease. Private Hutchinson, why do I hear this,” General gestured in the direction of Ed. “Next to my office when I asked for a few minutes of silence? Is it too much to ask for?”

“Sir, this is Fullmetal Alchemist, requesting information about Colonel Mustang. I wasn’t sure what to tell him, as there’s no official statement yet, Sir.”

In these situations, people usually took Al for Fullmetal Alchemist, so Ed was mentally preparing to get offended. However, the General wasn’t confused and stared directly at Ed. General’s gaze was somehow appraising.

“Indeed, a child soldier, just like Mustang said,” the General muttered under his nose, but Ed heard him.

Oh, Ed heard him very well.

“WHO DO YOU CALL SO SMALL THAT AN ANT HAS TO LOOK DOWN TO SEE HIM?” Ed tried to attack the General, but Al easily captured him, preventing any bloodshed. Well, Ed already hated everything in the Southern command and if he needed to show a general his place, he was happy to do it.

“And the temperament…” the General continued muttering, seemingly not noticing Ed’s attempts at attacking him. “Indeed, a child soldier. What have we become as a country,” he ended with a sigh, still not paying any attention to Ed’s shouting.

Though the next thing the General said was very surprising.

“I just saw the new issue of “People’s Voice”. It’s all over the news already, Hutchinson,” the general was addressing the private. “You don’t have to keep it a secret. And even though it’s not yet official, I think you should refer to him as General Mustang. I don’t think anyone will disagree if we adopt it a bit earlier.”

“General Mustang?” Ed stopped struggling and hang there, right in Al’s hands, looking disbelievingly. “Has he got a promotion and didn’t even tell us in his letter?”

“I don’t think he’d be able to tell you about his promotion in a letter, Fullmetal Alchemist,” the General looked him in the eyes, sincerely. “He got a 4-rank promotion if you know what I mean.”

A 4-rank promotion. A lucky bastard, isn’t he?

He got what he wanted and probably invited Ed and Al to the Southern command to boast about it.

Though how do people get a 4-rank promotion at once? There was something weirdly familiar about these words, something Ed already heard before… But where? And what kind of news they were talking about? Surely, a promotion cannot make it to a national newspaper, right?

_It couldn’t be…_

Al gently put Ed back on the ground. Al’s hands sulked, and he looked somehow disbelieving and sad at the same time.

_No, it couldn’t be..._

Ed looked back at the General, and now, he saw that the General looked very sad too. Were there trails of tears on his cheeks? Why would this old fart cry?

He looked at the Private, and the Private avoided his gaze.

_Please, no, it couldn’t be…_

“I’m sorry but I have to tell you,” the General firmly placed an arm on his shoulder. “General Mustang has died yesterday…”

The General was saying something else, some bullshit about heroism and protecting others and model state alchemists, but Ed could feel his knees buckle and all voices around him becoming muffled.

Dead?

Dead.

Ed just realized how much comfort he felt knowing that he could go to the East city any day and bash Mustang. Tease him for being useless in the rain. Bring another eloquently put report of the worst quality possible. Criticize him for his laziness and stupid assignments. See the team and laugh about yet another of Havoc’s ex-girlfriends or participate in their endless bets. See Hawkeye ordering them all around like some kindergarten kids. Know that his secret was safe with them. That he, himself, he and Al, - they both were safe with them. That the team supported him in his quest for the philosopher’s stone as much as they could.

It wasn’t like a family or a home, but it was comfortable. It was stable. It was a place to return to.

And now, how dare they tell him that Mustang died?

How dare Mustang _die_ on him? In some stupid city, on some stupid field assignment, doing something stupidly _heroic_?

Just leave him hanging like this?

Leave his team?

Or doesn’t he know that his team needs him? That Ed and Al _needed_ him.

Then, Ed remembered something. The letter instructed him and Al to appear at the Southern command and it said that it was urgent. They were supposed to arrive a week ago. And then, the operators at the telephone station also said that someone from the Southern command was looking for them a week ago while the phones were still not functioning. And they said it was _urgent_. He looked up, realizing with a sudden apprehension that he _needed_ to know but at the same time, he was too scared to know the answer.

“Sir…” Ed stopped and cleared his throat. His voice was muffled and hoarse, and his breath hitched – which he didn’t like because he wasn’t some stupid baby. He tried once again, now determined to ask what he wanted to ask. “Sir, we… I’ve got a letter recently, it said that I should appear at the Southern command for a field assignment as soon as possible…” he paused, collecting himself, readying himself for the answer.

“Yes, Major, we sent a letter requesting you to appear at the Southern command,” the General didn’t seem to care enough to elaborate.

Right, so the letter wasn’t sent by Mustang in the first place like Ed assumed initially. But this wasn’t what he wanted to ask.

“Sir, was Colonel… General Mustang sent on this field assignment alone? Did it require two state alchemists?”

He heard Al rattling behind him – Al behaved this way when he felt uncomfortable. Ed knew why he was feeling uncomfortable because his brother probably knew the answer too. There were assignments which were too difficult for a single state alchemist. Then, they hinged upon the participation of at least two state alchemists… And Ed was careless enough to _not_ check his mail, and now… He could feel physical pain at only the thought of it. Now, there was no way for him to redeem himself in the eyes of his younger brother. In the eyes of the Team. In his own eyes. How could anyone be so negligent to not appear somewhere where they were needed? To _cause_ someone’s death? He may as well have killed Mustang with his own hands instead.

He caused pain to everyone around him. Al suffered the most, now having to live as a suit of armour.

And he returned his mother back from the afterlife only for her to become a monster.

He made Winry cry on too many occasions.

And now. Now, he killed someone who gave him hope. A possibility for redemption. A way forward. A person who vaguely _cared_ for him.

“No, the assignment didn’t require two state alchemists,” General looked at him as if hesitating whether to tell him something. “You’re young, and I’m sure that if your superior officer were alive, he wouldn’t want me to tell you this. But I think that I have to tell. Everyone should be able to appreciate the sacrifices other people make for them.”

 _Didn’t_ require two state alchemists? So then, he didn’t kill him? He wasn’t the one to blame? His heart was beating so fast that Ed barely heard General’s next words.

“General Mustang volunteered for this assignment instead of you. He was fully aware of the risks,” the General placed his wrinkled hand on Ed’s shoulder once again, slightly squeezing it now. “I know he cared about you, so you should at least show some respect to him. I’ve overheard your conversation with Private Hutchinson a few minutes ago, and I would advise you not to use this sort of language towards General Mustang in the Southern command ever again. I cannot guarantee that my soldiers won’t become violent if they hear anything like this. A lot of them owe their lives to General Mustang, and I’m not responsible if they decide to escalate in response.”

Any other time, if Ed heard someone else telling him to ‘show respect’, he’d shrug it off or answer with even more disrespect. But this time, he felt like he didn’t have the right to be disrespectful anymore.

“Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir,” Ed was looking at the ground. The General was _crying_ because of Mustang’s death whereas Ed was _responsible_ for it, and he still failed to at least show some respect. Even his thoughts were far from respectable or ‘appreciative of sacrifice’. He was a failure in all ways possible. Even an emotional failure. “Sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again,” Ed said, very quietly. Then, he saluted once again, turned around and ran out of the building.

He was running very fast, not even noticing where he was running or into whom. He must have pushed a few pedestrians and journalists because he heard camera clicks after he ran into someone. He didn’t care.

He stopped somewhere next to the building, on what looked like parade grounds. He looked down and noticed some papers sticking to his hand.

His mission report.

He looked over it once again. “COLONEL BASTARD” spelt in the weather section. Attachments with ugly drawings of clouds with horns.

Then, he remembered why he sometimes attached drawings to his reports in the first place. Mustang _liked_ them. Of course, Mustang would never admit that he liked the drawings in the reports, and Ed would never admit that he included drawings specifically because Mustang liked them. But now, when Mustang was dead, Ed was ready to admit it at least to himself.

He remembered how he saw a drawing from his report somewhere around Mustang’s paperwork a whole month after he submitted the report. Then, he didn’t pay any attention to it. But much later, he sneaked into Mustang’s office to read through his research notes – something he was able to do because Mustang was sleeping in his favourite supply closets once again. Mustang’s research notes didn’t have any useful information on the philosopher’s stone or the flame alchemy for that matter. But the small pocket on the back of his notebook contained little items that Mustang probably held dear. A letter of acceptance to the academy. An old newspaper clipping with names of the deceased on the Western front. A few letters from someone called R.H. A newspaper clipping with photos of the most beautiful fireworks in the world. _Fucking pyro, wasn’t he?_ And then, a few of Ed’s drawings.

Ed was telling himself that he attached these drawings to his reports because he wanted to make fun of the sentimentality of the old man. But deep inside him, he was feeling irrationally happy that there existed an adult who cared enough for him to keep his drawings somewhere very close to him. If he had a father other than the abomination that was Hohenheim, he’d want a father who cared enough for him to like his ugly drawings of clouds.

Ed felt his eyes burning with tears. No, he didn’t have the right to cry, now, when he most likely killed Mustang with his carelessness. Then, he heard Al’s steps behind him.

“You’re not to blame, brother.”

Ed saw Al’s bowed head, the arms placed on his knees in defeat – and couldn’t help but feel even more guilty.

“You know how he is, Al. When I didn’t appear here like I was supposed to, he probably went himself because he didn’t want to lose a promotion or something similar,” Ed was speaking with confidence he didn’t really feel.

“You know exactly what happened, brother,” Al’s soulfire eyes looked directly at him. “And you know that he would have easily found us if he needed us. Remember when this really beautiful lady appeared in this small village and asked you to send the report to the Colonel?”

Ed blushed, remembering the event. This ‘really beautiful woman’ was outright seducing him. And then, after she removed her jacket, and Ed was desperately trying to avoid staring at her in her revealing t-shirt, she told him that Colonel Mustang needed the report within a day. Then she just left. Fucking bully, isn’t he? Probably still laughs about it every now and then. Ed remembered that the Colonel wasn’t laughing anymore – or doing anything for that matter and felt even worse.

“I know! I know, Al!” Ed was almost shouting now. “This fucking old ugly bastard _volunteered_ because he felt I wasn’t good enough to do it. Or because he knew that any alchemist on this mission would die.” And then, he started talking in a much quieter tone, almost whispering. “I don’t even know what’s worse, Al. Anyway, I’m to blame. I have to tell the team about what’s happened… We’ll probably end up in another team, Al. They wouldn’t want to work with us anyway.”

“No, brother, it’s not your fault if he didn’t want you to go on a dangerous mission…” Al started but Ed interrupted him.

“I don’t want to hear any of this, okay? It’s up to me to decide whether or not I’m to blame.”

Al didn’t say anything else, and now they sat there, in silence, not looking at each other. Ed looked around, trying to find something to distract himself with. He needed something to hold into so that he wouldn’t think about Mustang – and how he was to blame – over and over again. He needed to stay strong for his brother and staying strong included being able to pull himself out of the pit of despair.

Then, he saw a stack of newspapers somewhere next to them. This looked like a good distraction. He took one of them, noticing that it was the “People’s Voice”. The main national newspaper in the whole Amestris, and at that, biased towards the government. Well, now even the government’s propaganda seemed like a good reading.

Then, he saw the headline on the first page, and he wanted to throw the newspaper back to the stack.

_“FLAME ALCHEMIST DIED HEROICALLY, PROTECTING A FRONTLINE HOSPITAL”_

He didn’t allow himself to put it back. He was to blame. He had to face the consequences. Then, he thought darkly how he _didn’t_ appear in the Southern command when a whole hospital needed to be saved. Of course, Mustang would have volunteered for this mission. He was a prick, but he wasn’t heartless. Heartless like Ed was.

Underneath the headline, there was a photo. With his hair slicked back, in a parade uniform, and a determined look in his eyes, Mustang actually looked like a hero.

Ed forced himself to read further. He at least needed to know what Mustang did for him before he can face anyone from the team.

_“Roy Mustang, the renowned Flame Alchemist and the hero of Ishval died heroically, protecting the hospital on the front lines. He alone held off the advances of the Aerugian hordes for weeks. Thanks to him, all hospital patients were evacuated timely. He died, using his body to protect a child from a bomb. The eyewitnesses report that his last words were: “For the Fuhrer and Amestris”._

_Roy Mustang was a great servant of the Amestrian military and one of the most vocal supporters of Fuhrer’s foreign and internal policies. He joined the military as a volunteer, just when he was 16 years old and became the youngest in the history of the Amestrian military to achieve the rank of Colonel. His close friends tell that he joined the military to defend our country against our countless enemies and to implement the Fuhrer’s vision of Amestrian future._

_“He was a great state alchemist, a role model for every single one of us. He was not only a good soldier but also an incredible researcher,” the Fuhrer’s office commented on the matter. “His actions demonstrate how science can help us to protect our close ones. The Fuhrer hopes that all alchemists in Amestris will be inspired by Flame Alchemist’s heroism and apply for the State Alchemist program.””_

Below the article, there were a few announcements.

_“Read the confession of Flame Alchemist’s girlfriend on women’s page, pp. 26-27._

_‘Xingese heart, Amestrian soul. How Xingese in Amestris helped to defend our country throughout its history’ – read the comment of the President of the Association of Xingese immigrants in Amestris, p.31._

_If you want to apply for the State Alchemist program, call 072642-2921 – free to call._

_If you want to share your confession about Colonel Mustang and his undying support for Amestrian government, call 0713689-1338_

_If you claim to be Colonel Mustang’s girlfriend or ex-girlfriend, call 0726281-2836.”_

Ed frowned. The “Voice” was rarely a way to learn the truth, just like always. He knew that protecting the hospital for weeks thing was clearly false, unless, of course, you can protect the hospital while recovering from a hangover and trying to dodge your desk job responsibilities – Mustang was still ‘working’ in the East city just two weeks ago when Ed last saw him. As for his last words… Well, he may have been hit really hard, right? Though Ed doubted that even a concussed Mustang would ever say these words. Then, Ed noticed Al looking over his shoulder, also reading the newspaper.

“They have a phone line for his girlfriends,” Al said quietly behind him. Any other time, finding out about it would have brought Ed in a good mood. The “Voice” was so ill-equipped to answer the calls of all of Mustang’s girlfriends that they had to create a special phone line to answer them. But now, Ed felt empty. The article mentioned the ‘confession’ of Mustang’s girlfriend. The point was, Ed was to blame for a girl losing her loved one.

“If he saw this, he’d be happy that he is appreciated”, Al continued behind him. “I know he didn’t like being called the ‘Hero of Ishval’, but now he gets to be remembered for saving hospital patients from Aerugians, right?” Al tried to sound reassuring but thinking about it made Ed furious.

“For fuck’s sake, Al! You’re not stupid, you also see it!” when Ed saw Al pulling back and looking disappointed, he stopped shouting, and started speaking more gently. “They’re using him to recruit more state alchemists. Just another propaganda tool. They don’t care about him even in the slightest, or they wouldn’t lie, Al!” he started shouting again, not being able to control his emotions. Angry at everything, he kicked the fence of the parade grounds, and then again and again until it was too painful.

Someone coughed behind him, and he looked back to see the General once again. He scowled, thinking how he probably will be scolded for not being respectful enough to fences or something similar.

“I see you already found the new stack of “People’s Voice”, Fullmetal Alchemist,” the General started speaking behind him. “We didn’t give any official comments to any journalists yet if it’d reassure you. Nor did we speak to anyone about his dying words, which I’m personally not aware of. That’s why there’re so many journalists around the Southern command if you noticed.”

Ed kicked the fence once again. Was it how it was going to be? Is he going to hear the flowery lies about the man whose death he was responsible for? The man who _deserved_ all the recognition he was getting but none of the _lies_?

“I see now that you’re angry, young alchemist,” the General said. “I’m sorry for implying that you didn’t respect him enough. Huh, over the last week, I had to learn not to judge people before I learn them better.” Then, he started speaking as if remembering something. “I have an assignment for you, Fullmetal Alchemist. It’s not something I can officially order you to do, so it would be your choice to go or not. Besides, if you agree to it, I will request you not to get involved in a direct confrontation with Aerugians. Otherwise, it’d violate the promise I gave to your commanding officer.”

So Mustang volunteered because he didn’t want Ed to go on a mission where he’d have to fight on the frontlines. Fucking noble stupid bastard was he.

“Just give me the mission plan and I’ll do it,” he looked away, trying not to see Al’s disapproval. He needed a good distraction, and this mission sounded like it.

“I assume you know how to read maps, right?” the General was holding a stack of maps.

“’m not a baby, I’ll figure them out.”

General frowned at these words and then sighed. He started speaking once again, now sounding gentle and patient.

“You should know that your commanding officer wasn’t treating you like a child when he volunteered. This mission required a deep understanding of the military strategy, trench warfare, and even tank warfare. It required more experience than I initially thought it would, and my initial ordering you to go was a mistake. I’m sorry because commanding officers don’t have a right to mistakes like I made.”

“A mistake, right. So are you telling me that in this mission, flame alchemy was interchangeable with whatever you wanted me to do? You realize that his alchemy is… was completely different from mine, right?”

“He said to me that he’s well-versed in all kinds of basic alchemy. But just as I said…”

“Well-versed? Are you bullshitting me?” Ed tried to attack the General once again, and just like the last time, Al caught him. “Let me go, Al! Let me go! This old fart thinks that you can just send anyone to do any type of alchemy and it’ll all be peachy. For fucks, sake, Al, let me go. Let me go. Please. They killed him…” his breath hitched once again. Once again, he hung there, in Al’s metallic hands, not knowing what to do with himself. They killed him. They sent Mustang somewhere where they needed _him_. And the bastard foolishly agreed because he was stupid and noble. And Ed wasn’t there to stop this madness.

The General looked at him once again, frustrated.

“So are you willing to do this mission or not? I cannot send anyone else because with the journalists and people from the Fuhrer’s office around I cannot send an official mission to save people in an unauthorized tunnel. All you need to do is to go there and see if they’re alive. Alright?”

Ed calmed himself down and Al let him go. All these idiots didn’t deserve his anger. If he could see Mustang once again and _kill_ _him_ for his stupidity, then he’d happily do it as fast as he could.

“Give it to me,” Ed reached his hand out and got the whole stack of maps in his hands.

“The tunnel entrance is marked by the green cross. I’ll ask a soldier of mine to drive you to Sard, but then you’re on your own.”

“Whatever, I’ll just do it. Come on, Al”.

-/

They reached Sard relatively quickly. In the car, not a single word was said. Ed was looking furious, but he wasn’t saying anything. Al was sulking in the back, clutching into the last issue of “People’s Voice” like it was his favourite toy. And the driver – a massive soldier who managed to smoke 5 cigarettes while he was driving – looked like someone who never talked to anyone ever.

Sard looked like a ghost town. A few people they saw while driving here were hastily evacuating, putting all their belongings into suitcases. Since Aerugians captured Fostet, people in Sard expected to be attacked any day now.

Just as Ed was leaving the car, he heard the soldier who drove them here speaking.

“Sir,” The guy was snatching yet another cigarette. Huh, he probably was a local Havoc or something. “General Mustang asked to send the mission after the people in the tunnel in his last order. I haven’t heard it myself but that’s what others are talking about. Guys wanted to go on their own, but the General stopped them. Good luck – I’ll wait right here for all of you.”

Ed nodded and moved in the direction of caves as they were marked on the map. So Mustang wanted a mission to be sent to the tunnel? Why there was a tunnel in the first place? An unauthorized tunnel, at that. Something looked amiss.

In the caves, they found the tunnel relatively quickly. Someone left torches through all the way to the tunnels, so it wasn’t hard to find.

The tunnel itself had all signs of being built by an alchemist. By an alchemist who knew a lot about manipulating earth. Ed saw the tell-tale signs of good earth alchemy – the tunnel was fortified with stone where there was a risk of a landslide; the alchemist who built it often used the existing cavities in the earth to build the tunnel rather than doing more work than necessary; different arrays were used for feldspar and dirt… This looked like the work of a good state alchemist. And this was also the reason why Ed felt like sending Mustang to do the job Ed was supposed to do was same as killing him. The alchemic specialities existed for a reason. Good alchemists could specialize in more than one alchemy type, but at the end of the day, you couldn’t be an expert in everything. Especially Mustang, who spent more time slacking in his desk job than any other alchemist around - he wouldn’t be ever good enough to understand something beyond fire. And he understood fire in the first place because he was a pyromaniac.

Somewhere further, the tunnel took a sudden left turn to use the existing riverbed – the earth there was softer, so it was easier to build the tunnel here. So far, so good. Ed rarely liked the work of other alchemists, but people who built this tunnel were professionals. They knew both their alchemy and the local landscape.

When they walked about 2 miles in the tunnel, Ed heard voices.

Specifically, very familiar voices.

Hearing them, he started running and he saw Al doing the same.

After a few minutes of running, they stopped in front of a big, sturdy-looking cage. People inside definitely heard them approaching because they were all aiming their guns at him. It was dark, and Ed and Al weren’t saying a single word during their run through the tunnel, so they probably weren’t recognized.

“Hey, guys,” Ed started hesitantly, still seeing their guns rather than their faces. Was it their way to say that he was small?!

“Ed?” this was Hughes. “Do you guys see him too or am I already hallucinating?”

“Positive, Sir,” this was Hawkeye. She lowered her gun and so did everyone else. Right, she was still commanding them like some kindergarten kids. “Ed, Al, what are you doing here?”

“Tourism,” Ed answered and then clapped his hands together and bent the bars of the cage, effectively opening it. Just like everything in this tunnel, the cage was well done. The metal of cages was reaching out very deep under the earth, to the stone layer. There was no way anyone could have opened it without alchemy or metal instruments.

He saw them leaving the cage and taking the torches from the walls. Right, they probably didn’t have torches inside the cage. It must have been uncomfortable to sit in almost complete darkness for so long. Then, Ed realized something. If Mustang wanted the Southern command to send a mission to save them, then they may _not know_. Then, he not only had to tell them about his role in Mustang’s death but also about Mustang’s death itself.

“Ed, Al, we have to move South. We have to find Armstrong.”

Ed breathed out, relieved that he wouldn’t have to tell them right now. The later the better in this case… Then, he started thinking about how Armstrong must have been the one to create the tunnel. Though it didn’t make sense. Who created the cage, then?

“Are you looking for the person who created the cage, Ed?” Hughes guessed his thoughts. “I think he left in the direction of Sard some time ago. Though we’d have to inform the Southern command about him. He’s a sleazy traitor,” he finished darkly.

Right, there was no way the whole Mustang team would allow this to happen unless they were deceived to go to this place all together at once.

Somewhere further down South, they saw Armstrong’s legs sticking out of another set of bars. Ed felt a sudden apprehension in his throat at the thought that today he may learn about yet another death.

But then, the legs moved, and they heard Armstrong’s emotional voice.

“You found me!” Armstrong was already crying. “How thoughtful of you! You’re real friends!”

When they looked closer, they found out that Armstrong was in a similar cage, with food and everything. The only difference was that his hands were wrapped in something metallic, so he didn’t have a chance to leave using his alchemy.

Ed clapped once again, breaking the bars of the cage, and then – the wraps on Armstrong’s hands only to be hugged forcefully by Armstrong’s muscular arms.

“Thank you, Edward Elric. You’re truly an amazing man!”

It took Ed another 5 minutes to get out of the embrace – and only because Armstrong moved on to hug everyone else.

“Someone hit me, and when I woke up, I was already in this cage. I was scared that you were all killed. I’m so happy that you weren’t!” Armstrong was crying more intensively now.

“Where is Colonel Mustang?” Armstrong continued. “Surely, you saved him first. I have to hug him too for having such an amazing team!”

Everyone looked around uncomfortable. Ed was about to speak – he just needed a pause to collect himself, to bring himself to say those words. Then, to Ed’s surprise, Hughes moved in the direction of Armstrong and hugged him first.

“It’s been more than 2 days since we were supposed to arrive,” Hughes said, looking Armstrong directly in the eyes. “There wasn’t a single transmission from Fostet since yesterday.”

Armstrong looked at them disbelievingly. Now, the usually cheerful giant looked depressed.

“If only I stopped the attacker before he reached me,” he said, and there was so much self-blame in his voice.

“You’re not to blame,” Maes said, moving away from the hug. “Havoc was suspicious about Sergeant Robertson for days, and I didn’t pay any attention to it. I personally checked him and deemed him trustworthy. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

Ed looked from one face to another, seeing that everyone here felt _guilty_. But hell, he was the one who was _legitimately_ guilty.

“So guys….” He started, looking at the ground. “Southern command sent me a letter and I had to arrive here a week ago. But… I didn’t check my mail for the whole week and then I also destroyed the telephone station. There was no way for the Southern command to reach me… That’s why Colonel… General Mustang volunteered.”

“General Mustang?” Hughes asked, and then Ed noticed a desperate look in his eyes. “Then he’s officially dead…” Hughes collected himself and looked directly at Ed. “Listen, Ed. You’re not to blame in any way. Roy shut down the postal offices in your city for 3 days, so you wouldn’t have received the letter a week ago. He also sent some of his cronies to cut off the phone lines to the library. So no, there was no way for you to appear in time,” Hughes patted his shoulder.

“But…” Ed tried to explain how he was to blame but he couldn’t come up with any ways to express what he meant. He was to blame because Mustang cared so much that he wasn’t thinking clearly. No one would sabotage communications in an entire city just to keep a subordinate safe. It was Ed’s fault. He was to blame for his stupid drawings, teasing, bad reports… All the things that Mustang stupidly liked enough to volunteer for this mission.

“Just like I said, brother,” he heard Al behind him. “You’re not to blame. And you all,” Al’s soulfire eyes looked at everyone else. “You have to stop looking for ways for how you’re all to blame. Brother, it’s not your fault if you didn’t have a single chance to come here or even learn about the mission. Everyone else, it’s not your fault if someone you trusted betrayed you. JUST START BEHAVING LIKE ADULTS YOU ARE, PLEASE.”

Everyone looked around uncomfortable. They rarely saw Al being so angry, and what Al said kind of made sense…

“Moving on,” Hughes said, looking at Ed again. “Did General Rawls say if they retrieved the body?”

“Retrieved the body?” Ed parroted, uncomfortable of having to refer to Mustang as a ‘body’ now. For fuck's sake, why did it have to happen? “The General didn’t say anything.”

“Alright, then. We’ll have to radio to the Southern Command and ask the General directly. Fuery, can you set-up the transmission?”

“I’m not familiar with local frequencies, so it’ll take time, Sir… Maes, Sir. Sorry, I didn’t learn how to address you, Sir.”

Hughes gestured him to start, and sat there silently, next to the radio. Everyone else followed his example. They all were looking desperate, all trying to process the terrible news they just received.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Breda asked: “Is it a newspaper you’re holding, Al? I’m itching for the news.”

“But Sir, it’s a new issue…”

Al tried to say something else, but Breda already snatched the newspaper out of his hands.

“Oh,” he said, looking at the first page.

But then, he and Havoc started reading the paper, helped by a flashlight in Breda’s hands.

Everyone was silent for a few minutes again – Ed could only hear the sound of pages being turned over and over again.

Then, Breda puffed out, closed his mouth with his hand, looking like he was trying to hold off laughter, and then… just burst out laughing. When everyone looked at him questioningly, he said, finally managing to stop laughing: “’m sorry, I just can’t… “For Fuhrer and Amestris.” Can you imagine him saying it?”

“How you dare laugh when he… when he…” Hughes was speaking now. He couldn’t manage to say the word ‘dead’.

“I know,” Breda was absolutely serious now. “But we have to put it on his tombstone for leaving without talking to us first. ‘For Fuhrer and Amestris’.”

Somewhere behind, Havoc puffed: “For Fuhrer and Amestris’, for fuck’s sake. Well, he deserves this for doing it in the first place,” he finished darkly. “We also have to invite every single one of his girlfriends and introduce them to each other.”

Ed couldn’t help but grinned. Yes, this stupid bastard deserved the worst funeral ever for dying on them. Then, he saw Hughes discussing something with Fuery. Hughes gestured them to come closer to the radio. After several minutes of exchanges of military codes, he finally heard the General speaking.

“General Rawls here, I’m listening.”

“Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes here.”

“Thank God you’re alive. I was praying for all of you.”

“Right, General, could you please share the latest developments on front. Besides, we have important information regarding Sergeant Robertson.”

Ed zoned out, not listening to the military blabbing that followed. The two were speaking in some codes and slangs Ed barely knew, like ‘Charlie Foxtrot’.

When they finished, Hughes clapped his hands, inviting them all to what looked like a discussion.

“So listen, everyone. They say that they couldn’t retrieve the body yet”, he exhaled, barely concealing an emotion. Did it look like hope? “They don’t even know for sure if he’s dead yet.” At that, everyone gasped. Could it be that their commander was alive? “I suggest we build the tunnel just like we planned, and then spy on the Aerugians to see if they have him as a captive or maybe to… find the body. Even if the Southern command doesn’t know for sure yet, we have to operate on the assumption that chances of finding him alive are very slim. Almost inexistent, I’d say.”

“We have to try anyway, Sir,” said Hawkeye. “If he has been captured, then it’s operational to retrieve him as fast as possible.”

They moved out no more than 10 minutes later, everyone itching to find out the truth. If there was even a tiny chance that their commander wasn’t dead, then they had to do their best to save him.

Now, with Ed and Al around, the tunnel-building was much faster. Armstrong was still the one building the tunnel, as he was more knowledgeable about the local landscape and soil composition. Ed and Al moved the remaining rubbles very quickly, while the Team was discussing the plan for the attack.

In two hours, they were done. The tunnel was at Fostet, and the intricate stairs at the end of the tunnel led to the surface.

“Everyone, listen. The plan is ready now,” this was Hughes speaking. “I and Lieutenant Hawkeye will go first. We can’t all go there, or we’ll attract too much attention.”

“Hell, no! I’m also going with you,” Ed said, already turning his automail to a sword. He itched to have a chance to find Mustang alive, and no one would ever take it away from him.

“Ed, you’re staying. We have to be…”, Ed ran past Hughes in the direction of the exit, hearing behind the muffled “…inconspicuous.”

He didn’t care. Mustang was there, possibly alive, possibly captured and being tortured. There was still hope. He had to find out.

On the surface, the first thing he noticed was the smell.

An awful smell of decomposing flesh and the smoke. He gasped for air and then covered his mouth with his hand, battling the dizziness he felt.

Then, he looked around and stopped walking, shocked.

Wasn’t there supposed to be a hospital?

Farms?

Aerugian soldiers?

Anything?

Everything around him was _dead_.

The ground was cracked and dark, like in a desert.

Somewhere further, there was a whole fucking _crater_. For a minute, he thought that a meteorite must have landed there, but then, he realized that he saw dead seaweed on the ground of the crater, decomposing fish and the remnants of a boat. Stop, if there were fish and boats, then it could have been a lake, right? But where was the water then?

There were remnants of trees somewhere further – dark cracked tree trunks without any leaves.

There were remnants of houses. Not even remnants but white quadratic shapes on the earth indicating that something was burned to ashes on top of the relatively unburned ground amidst the cracked dark soils.

On the left, further up the hill, there were many grey stones. Some of them were cracked, burst in half. He could see white trails on the ground where there were wooden doors.

He staggered, not being able to look anymore, trying to go back. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. And then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Ed. Ed. Can you hear me? You’re hyperventilating.”

He looked up and focused enough to see Hughes. He looked worried. Ed looked around again, trying to only focus on familiar figures. He saw Al there too, sitting on the ground, looking around, as shocked as Ed was. This brought Ed back to reality. He had to be strong for his brother.

“Al, are you okay?” he was happy for the first time ever that Al couldn’t smell anything. Then, he felt his brother grasping his shoulder a little bit. He looked at Al again and saw that Al was collected and determined. Right, so he was fine. Good.

“What the fuck is this?” Ed asked, looking at Hughes and everyone from the team – they must have come out of the tunnel when they heard Hughes calling his name.

He saw that Hughes avoided his gaze, clearly trying to think of ways to phrase his response.

Then…

He heard about Mustang in Ishval, but that… That… Everything around him, it was just burned down to the ground. Did he just burn everything around him? Was the fire so strong that a whole lake evaporated? Wood immediately turned to ashes? Stones burst into half? Maybe, someone else did it? Like a very strong bomb or something, right?

“Ed, I think you and Al should stay in the tunnel. Enemy forces can be around.” Ed noticed how Hughes avoided answering his question altogether.

Ed shook his head and then started running again. Whatever Mustang had done, there was still a chance to find him, right? And what’s wrong with a little fire around? He was defending a hospital, after all. He tried to distract himself enough to not notice the smell and the fact that there _wasn’t_ any hospital in the first place.

In the ruins of the building – could it be what was left of the hospital? – he suddenly saw a moving shape. He ran after it, easily capturing someone’s hand.

When he looked closely, he saw that it was a boy. A bit taller than him but thinner, in burned clothes and with burns on his shoulder. The boy looked scared.

“Sir, please, don’t do anything to me!”

He saw everyone behind him approaching.

“What happened here? Where are the Aerugians?”

He was terrified of the possible answer. There were supposed to be soldiers. An entire army stationed at the farms next to the hospital or at the hospital… If the fire turned the wood into ashes, then he couldn’t even think of what could have happened to human bodies. No, please…

“The devil…” the boy’s voice was terrified, hitching, pausing after every word. He spoke with a barely noticeable Aerugian accent. “He burned everything down. This is the end of the world… This earth is cursed now…”

Hughes carefully freed the boy out of Ed’s grasp. Hughes gently touched boy’s hand, trying to get him to look at him.

“It’s alright now. You’re safe. We’re going to take care of you,” Hughes said when the boy finally looked at him.

“I didn’t think he was the devil,” the boy now looked at Hughes with a terrified stare. “He gave me food… I thought he was kind…” the boy hitched once again and then started crying. Hughes carefully hugged him, and then the boy leaned on him, crying at his shoulder.

“It’s fine. You’re safe now, kid. It’s going to be fine, alright?”

“They’re dead now. The Major and everyone… I was in the trench when the fire started, but they were closer.”

Hawkeye opened her water bottle and then managed to get the boy to drink. The boy was gulping water as fast as he could. Ed looked away, pitying him. How the hell he was here? Was he one of the evacuees who wasn’t saved yet? What the hell was Mustang thinking when he did it? A small thread of hope inside Ed still told him that Mustang didn’t do any of this, but at the same time, Ed knew that devils didn’t exist.

“I like your smell,” the boy was talking to Hughes’ shoulder now. “Not burned”.

“Do you know where the devil is now?” Hughes asked the boy.

The boy pulled back from Hughes’ shoulder, terrified.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, I promise! We all won’t ever come near him again. He’s the devil himself. The devil!”

Hughes and Hawkeye looked at each other as if wordlessly discussing something. “Wasn’t captured, then,” Hughes muttered to himself.

“So there were other soldiers who survived. Where are they?”

“They left. They said me to look for the Amestrians and go back only if I see anyone,” the boy took a large gasp of air. “I tried but I cannot go back! The field is so scary. Cursed earth. I cannot step in there,” boy clatched Hughes shirt, hyperventilating.

“Will it help you if I take you over the field?” Hughes looked in the eyes of the boy. “Can you run yourself if you are on the earth that wasn’t cursed?”

The boy looked at him again, now determined and hopeful. He nodded.

“I want to see my mum and my sister. Please. But I don’t want to get cursed.”

“Right, I’ll help you,” Hughes nodded and then stood up. He and the boy exchanged a few wordless looks, and then the boy hugged his neck, and Hughes carefully walked further, carrying the boy on his back.

Everyone else followed Hughes out of the ruins.

The other side of the hill looked like split in half.

On the one half, there was cracked dark ground, scorched by fire. But then, there was a large wall and after it, they could see green grass.

In the middle of the burned part of the hill, there was a large red tree.

Ed gasped at the sight of it – it was unbelievably beautiful among all this destruction. It was the only thing that remained alive and unburned around them.

How could it have survived? Only… Only if whoever started the fire was there.

He started running in the direction of the tree, noticing how everyone did the same. Except for Hughes. Hughes was carefully carrying the boy over the field.

Closer to the tree, Ed saw undefined blue shapes. Two of them. There was something metallic attached to one of the shapes, but another… Another had dark hair.

He stopped, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

He didn’t want to see the body, the finality of it.

He also didn’t want to think of the _implications_. There wasn’t some extra-terrestrial devil, there wasn’t a very powerful bomb, there weren’t hordes of soldiers who used flamethrowers to evaporate an entire lake. There was only one person who did it. There was an alchemy which did it. And the tree was the epicentre of it.

He looked up once again and saw Hawkeye kneeling next to the body. She was crying. She took Mustang’s hand in her hands, gently, holding it like it was something holy. On the Mustang’s hand, there was something metallic. Then, he heard a loud ‘thud’ – loud because no one was speaking and everyone was walking carefully, astounded by what they saw.

Ed walked closer and picked up a metallic bracelet from the ground. He saw how it slipped off of Mustang’s hand. The bracelet wasn’t wide. If anything, it’d be difficult to put in on an adult person – he looked closer to see clasps on the side. So yes, it should have been tight. Even for Ed. Then how on Earth could it just slip off? He looked closer at Mustang, and gasped.

Like everything else in this hell, Mustang was distorted, looking not like he was supposed to be. His skin was very pale, almost white. His hand was thin, looking more like a stick than a human hand. Mustang was thinner than anyone he ever saw, almost unbelievable how a person could be so thin. And he saw Mustang just two weeks ago… He looked once again, now noticing protruding cheekbones and black rings under the eyes.

Then, he saw Hawkeye stepping away from Mustang with an overwhelmed expression on her face.

“HE’S ALIVE!” she shouted, and Ed looked away, afraid that she’ll become distorted like everything else here, insane like Mustang probably became in his last hours of what looked like a terrible death. “Jean, Kain, call for the ambulance to Sard,” she continued speaking, now managing to look less emotional.

Havoc stepped closer to Hawkeye, trying to move her away from there. He almost hugged her, whispering: “It’s okay, Riza. It’s okay, we’ll take care of everything.”

“No, he’s alive, I’m telling you,” Hawkeye was struggling out of Havoc’s grasp. “Can’t you see him breathing?”

Breda and Falman came closer to Hawkeye, started speaking to her in a hushed tone. Ed could overhear something about them _understanding_ , about the grief stages… Hawkeye didn’t seemingly hear any of that, still trying to struggle out of Havoc’s grasp, still talking about ambulances to Sard and how they didn’t have any time. She tried to reach her gun with her trembling hands, but she couldn’t manage it. Ed looked away, feeling uncomfortable about looking at her in this state. The team was crumbling in his eyes, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t notice Fuery actually walking to Mustang’s still body.

“Requesting an ambulance to Sard. It’s an emergency.”

Everyone stopped, shocked, looking at Fuery. He was loosening Mustang’s collar and radioing at the same time.

“Pulse is slow, signs of severe weight loss, possible alchemic exhaustion. Male, 29.”

Hawkeye finally struggled out of the grasp of Havoc and Breda and ran back to Mustang.

“Unresponsive to light stimuli, the pulse is weak but steady, potential hypothermia. Another soldier is dead, I guess for some time now.” she was saying in a drilled tone, now checking another body on the ground. “Ed, can you create a stretcher, please? Jean, there are blankets in the tunnel, pick them up please,” she was ordering them already.

Ed felt overfilled with happiness and at the same time not believing in what was happening. He barely managed to snap out of it to alchemize a stretcher or what looked like a stretcher out of the earth.

Then, Ed just stood there, looking at the activity around him detachedly, trying to think of the alchemic exhaustion and the first aid in its case. His mind went completely blank.

“Huh, he ran off just when we reached the unburned earth,” Hughes appeared behind them, talking in a strangely warm tone. “I also saw trails of footsteps in trenches and on the grass, so some people must have survived.”

Hughes started looking around, noticing the strange activity around him, only to fall on the ground when Havoc ran into him with a big lump of blankets.

“Hell, you’re doing?” Hughes asked, collecting himself from the ground. Then, Ed saw the emotions rapidly changing on his face – the confusion, surprise, and then absolute happiness. “He is alive, isn’t he?” Hughes asked, and then covered his eyes with his hands. “Thank God. Thanks…” he was saying, and now Ed could see that he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading this once again.  
> Besides, I am also grateful for all your comments. Especially if your have criticism - I'd be happy to hear it, as I'm writing this to improve my writing skills, and your feedback would greatly help in that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ch 9, part ½**

Ed was pacing back and forth in the hospital’s waiting room. He couldn’t help it – he was too agitated. All he could think was that the doctor didn’t directly respond to the question they all had – was Mustang going to survive?

The ride back to the Southern command was hazy. All Ed could remember was that someone offered him a place in Mustang’s ambulance because he was ‘small’ and could fit in, and Ed _didn’t_ throw a fit. He was so scared that Mustang will actually die, that he had to see Mustang breathing and being alive just to be sure that he was still alive. He never expected it to happen, but he realized that the small list of people he really cared about went from a short one, containing ‘Al’ and ‘Winry’ to a much larger one. He didn’t want to see Hawkeye insane. He didn’t want to see anyone from the team hurt. He didn’t want to see Hughes cry once again. And, most of all, he never wanted to see Mustang so sick ever again. And especially he never wanted to hear about Mustang’s death ever again.

“Why the hell won’t they even tell us the diagnosis?” Ed said, thinking about _nice ways_ he could use to make the doctors talk. “Isn’t it obvious? Why else would a healthy elderly man lose so much weight in one week?”

No one answered him, so he started walking faster. In situations like these, reading a book or researching something was helpful, but the damned Southern command didn’t have a library.

“I think people should lose their state alchemy certification for shit like this,” he said, now finally stopping, leaning against the wall.

No one answered him once again, except for Al, who gave him a stern look but didn’t say anything aloud.

“No, really – it’s Alchemy-101. Don’t overuse. Stop if you feel exhausted and especially if you start losing weight. There’s a whole fable we had to learn by heart about this girl who used all her life energy to grow flowers for a prince. And we learn it even before we learn the first alchemic array. And wasn’t alchemy supposed to be foolproof, Al?”

“Brother, please…”

“No, it’s literally foolproof when it comes to the alchemic exhaustion. You start losing focus the moment you get too exhausted and then you are likely to get a rebound. And how on Earth did he decide to use earth alchemy in the first place? Doesn’t he know that using the alchemy you don’t know shit about is _not_ energy-efficient? I guess his array for the earth alchemy is just a drawing of flowers or something.”

This time, Al firmly grasped his hand and dragged him out of the room. His brother looked furious at him, yet Ed couldn’t understand it. They all were supposed to be furious at Mustang. For going on this mission, for daring to volunteer instead of him, for using earth alchemy when all he was capable of was burning cafeterias to the ground – and only when it wasn’t raining or his gloves weren’t wet and useless.

Once outside the waiting room, Al carefully placed him on a chair and sat next to him. Ed could see that his brother was calming himself down.

“You can always tell me how you feel, brother,” Al said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Ed didn’t answer right away. Every time when he felt down, Al could see it, and he always asked him this question. It became something like a ritual for them, yet Ed rarely could bring himself to talk about his emotions. He guessed that he didn’t want his brother to see him as weak. And he knew that he wasn’t only furious at Mustang.

He was scared.

His teacher always told him not to join the military. “Alchemist, be thou for the people.” He joined anyway, and he didn’t see any ways around it. He needed to return Al’s body. He needed to right the horrible mistake he did. When he joined the military, he mostly thought about the utility of his decision – about the access to the libraries and research funds, military privileges. He didn’t give a lot of thought to what he’ll have to do as a state alchemist. Mustang always reminded him that alchemists have to make difficult decisions, but at the end of the day, Ed didn’t need to make many of them. He never killed anyone. He never used a gun. He never had to fight on the frontlines. And he surely wasn’t aware of the horrible reality of state alchemists on frontlines.

Was it how alchemists were used in the military? Until the exhaustion drains all life energy out of you, until everything around you becomes crushed and distorted until people think that you’re the devil, and the battlefield is the cursed earth. What would have happened if he was the one sent instead of Mustang? Would he have to destroy everything around him just like Mustang did? Would he have to kill? Were there any options for saving the hospital patients which didn’t involve any of what Mustang did? Ed knew that deep inside him, besides being out of his mind feared for Mustang he also feared that in the future, he’d have to do it himself. Or face the inevitable consequence of failing to protect the innocent people. But he didn’t want to tell any of it to Al. His brother already felt guilty about him joining the military. There was no way on Earth he’d also tell that one day, he may have to end up like Mustang now.

“The way this idiot used alchemy,” Ed scowled, indicating his immense disapproval. “You know that I hate when people use it in stupid ways.”

“There were stones in the ruins of the building that were shaped alchemically. It was good alchemy. And you know that whatever happened with the lake was an… efficient alchemy too.”

The lake... Ed frowned because he felt nauseous at the thought of it.

“’m sorry, Al,” he said, at last, looking at his brother sincerely. “I just didn’t expect to see him like that. And you know how the doctors usually don’t give any prognoses when the chances are low. I guess I don’t want another CO.”

He felt sleepy soon, tired of all the worries of the day. He leaned on Al’s metallic shoulder and fell asleep, right there, outside the waiting room. He saw senseless dreams about presenting his report to Mustang and this time, he spelt “USELESS IN THE RAIN” in the new weather description part. Mustang in his dream responded with elaborate insults about dwarfs being good at predicting weather, while simultaneously hiding his drawings somewhere in the inner pocket of his notebook. And then, Mustang was saying that he was the greatest and tallest alchemist in the world – because it was _his_ dream and it was a damn good one. Ed smiled in his sleep. Then, he heard someone very distant calling for him.

When he woke up, he was in a barrage of blankets, forming a little ball around him. He was lying on something soft, and when he looked at it, he realized that Al must have found a pillow and then placed it on his own shoulder. His brother was precious.

“Ed, can you hear me?”

In front of him was Hawkeye, and she looked happy. Ed exhaled because he knew what it meant.

“He’s going to be alright, right?” he asked. A curt nod was all he got in response. He smiled, his heart beating faster at the thought of it, and his own fear receding.

-/

Riza had been in this room for the last five days. She rarely left, and she slept right there, on a little couch in the corner. She told everyone that she was doing it as part of her duty as his bodyguard. And partly, she was. He was absolutely defenceless now. He wasn’t even conscious most of the times. When he was conscious, he was confused and terrified out of his mind. He pleaded them to evacuate and snapped at something with his gloveless fingers. Even in his sleep, he couldn’t run away from the fears that plagued him. He was speaking to someone, apologizing for his wrongs. The list of things he apologized for was endless. He destroyed everything around him. He didn’t save the Lieutenant. He failed to see through that someone didn’t get turned into a wolf. He built ugly walls with ugly windows in them. He didn’t manipulate his team convincingly enough so that they wouldn’t get stuck somewhere he couldn’t help them. His pointless apologies added more to the point – he needed her protection more than ever now.

Yet she was also staying here mostly because she couldn’t be anywhere else. How could she?

He was here, alive and breathing. He survived. She still couldn’t believe it. How could she leave him and go to the barracks and lose sleep over the thought of losing him once again?

It was pathetic. The ladies in the countless romantic novels were losing sleep and will to live when something immensely tragic happened to their loved ones. Then, they most likely died of some bullshit causes like ‘broken heart’ because women in these shitty romantic novels weren’t supposed to live longer than the love of their lives.

She wasn’t like any of them – at least she hoped that she wasn’t – but once she realized that Roy most likely was dead, she immediately felt like a black pit opened deep inside her. She was feeling like she didn’t have any purpose in life anymore. And for whom? For a guy who hit on every girl around him (except her) and whose idea of fun was to tease Ed out of his mind? Who was looking for synonyms of the word ‘short’ to prepare for the meetings with Ed while completely ignoring his paperwork? Why couldn’t she at least fall for someone who wasn’t this lazy and manipulative? Wasn’t it too much to ask to fall for someone who wouldn’t burn stacks of paper just because he felt that signing them was too much of a struggle? The feelings she had were unexplainable. It was as if realizing that you love this high school bully who spends most of the time teasing girls and fighting with other bullies, and his best achievement so far is the longest dropkick in the history of football lessons in his high school.

But somehow, she missed being in the office again. She missed their routine consisting of her doing the paperwork and him avoiding it; she missed looking for him in the supply closets and in the news reports on the latest arsonist incidents. She missed all these little things that were inexplicably him, and she suddenly realized that she loved every single one of them. It was stupid and pointless – but she couldn’t help it.

She was deep in her thoughts when she saw a little movement next to her. He was waking up – or he was seeing one of these nightmares once again where someone was chastising him for ugly windows in ugly walls.

“Riza?” he asked, a little bit sitting up in his bed. “Where am I?”

“Hospital, Sir. You’re safe now.” She smiled, seeing that his gaze was the most conscious she ever saw since she started spending all her time in this hospital room.

He looked around and somehow, he didn’t look relieved. Riza asked herself if he was able to process the answer at all now.

“Why am I alive?” he asked her then, in a quiet and firm voice.

“The tunnel, Sir, remember? We were late but we were still able to pick you up. You have severe alchemic exhaustion and…”

He raised his hand a little bit, indicating that he wanted to speak now. Riza averted her eyes – his hand was thin and trembling, and she didn’t want to see him like this. Oh, how she wished they were back at the office and he was sleeping but not because of the alchemic exhaustion, but because he felt too lazy for his work once again.

“Why am I alive?” he repeated firmly. “You promised, Riza. You promised.”

“I’m sorry – I couldn’t protect you,” Riza was scared of the desperation in her own voice. But she was desperate. She spent these five days thinking about ways how she could have prevented any of this. How she could have prevented seeing him like this and being feared out of her mind that one day he just wouldn’t survive. “I am so sorry, Sir.”

“No, not that,” he frowned. “The path. You had to watch me and shoot…”

He tried to say something else, but he couldn’t. He fell back on his pillows, seemingly losing the concentration to say anything. The sleep was claiming him once again.

Riza watched him falling asleep. He was so peaceful in his sleep for now.

Some time ago, they made this pact. She had to protect his back, but he also tasked her with watching if he was following the right path. She’d have to shoot him if he lost his idea of righteousness – and thankfully, he never did anything that made her doubt him. Especially now, when he so selflessly protected the hospital. She was even grateful to him for doing it. For years, she felt devastated at the thought of what flame alchemy achieved in his hands. Whatever he did now, it wouldn’t atone for Ishval, but it was something. Something good that came out of flame alchemy, and she was grateful for this small bit.

She heard the door being carefully opened and shut behind her. She looked up to see Maes in the doorway. He fashioned a few days old stubble, his glasses were a bit smudged, and he was carrying a thick stack of documents in his hands. Riza wasn’t surprised to see him like this – it wasn’t very easy to carry out the duties of a Chief of Investigations while being stranded in the Southern command.

“Huh, is he asleep again?”

Riza nodded. “Though he was conscious just a few minutes ago,” she didn’t elaborate on the strange talk they had.

“Was he apologizing for not being able to see if someone is not turned into a wolf once again?” Maes said and smiled tiredly.

“No, I thought he was actually conscious this time.”

Maes nodded curtly and then dragged the chair next to her and sat there. He clearly saw that she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Don’t worry about it. He has strange ideas of when he is to blame but he will eventually snap out of it. He survived Ishval and he sure as hell will survive saving this hospital – even if he did it in not the most elegant way possible.”

-/

Maes hated reading about gardening. Yet he was there, reading “Gardening & Housekeeping” magazine in the hospital’s waiting room. He already read through the recipe section twice and he learned everything there was about keeping bees at home, and he still didn’t muster the courage to enter the hospital room in front of him. He felt like a coward. He was visiting his friend’s hospital room every single day for the last three weeks, yet every single time he felt more and more dread before entering it.

Doctors were saying that Roy was improving. And Roy was in a sense improving. He was gaining weight – albeit slowly. He was speaking and conscious. He was transferred from the ICU to a nice spacious room with a view overseeing the mountains. He got to have visitors during all visiting hours. Doctors were already talking about discharging him for ‘home care’. Doctors were saying that they didn’t expect a better outcome out of it. They didn’t get to discharge him, of course. Maes had a talk with them, and he was very convincing. No one wants to get an enemy in the country’s main Investigation department, so eventually, they didn’t discharge him.

These charlatans decided that Roy was ‘sufficiently’ mentally healthy. Well, Maes knew why – he and Roy both learned how to answer psychologists’ questions after Ishval to stay in the army. Talking how they had enough emotional support to live through. Lying about nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety. Saying how they were aware of all symptoms to seek help if they needed. Telling how they avoided alcohol and drugs; how they exercised… Roy also always brought a fake meditation journal to these meetings. He had it worse after Ishval, so he worked harder to fake it until he got a clean bill of health. And the doctors were always eager to pronounce veterans healthy. The military didn’t want to lose veterans because of some illnesses that were so easily _concealable_. So yes, so far, it worked quite well for them. Except, of course, the one time Riza called him when Roy was feeling especially down, and he found Roy with a loaded gun in his hands – to this day, Roy still didn’t admit to what he was trying to do that day. Or all these times he found Roy unconscious, drunk as hell, in some bars somewhere in dangerous outskirts of Central. Or all these times he knew his friend was barely sleeping… Or when he heard stories about Roy burning something because of flashbacks.

But now, it was worse.

It was terrifyingly worse.

Roy just wasn’t… himself. He talked, smiled and complained about the rain as always, yet he didn’t seem like the same person. He rarely wanted to do anything. He rarely expressed an opinion. He rarely said anything without being asked first. It felt like any action now was taking all his energy. He was saying morbid things all the time. It was just… hard to be in the same room with him because everyone felt unwanted around him. Maes knew that his friend’s social skills were good enough to sell honey to bees or short jokes to Edward Elric, yet this time, Roy couldn’t fool anyone.

Maes personally was terrified of when his friend will be alone once again. Roy already ‘accidentally’ started a fire, burning his hand quite badly. Maes was close enough to smell smoke and put it down, but he couldn’t be around Roy all the time when he’ll get home. Maes needed to make Roy speak in any way possible. Doctors were saying that the morbid mood was because of the weight loss – and oh God, how Maes wished it was true. Maybe it was true? No one would feel happy after whatever catastrophe happened in Fostet. Maes wished that it would go away just in a day. But it wasn’t going away. He felt like it was worsening every day now. The healthier Roy got on hospital food, the more weight he gained, the more depressed he seemed every day. The more difficult it seemed to engage him in any conversation, and the more insincere were the smiles.

Maes turned over the last page of the magazine. There was so much text you can write on the identification of bee species before buying them. He even read the already filled out crossword. There wasn’t anything else to do. He didn’t even have any right to be anxious when it was his friend who struggled with his inner demons after saving an entire hospital from enemy forces. He took a deep breath, stood up and opened the door.

Roy was there, as always, in the bed, staring out of the window in the direction of Fostet with an indifferent expression. Hughes saw this stare too often already. He wanted to transfer Roy to another room, but his friend refused. It was hard to get Roy to express any opinion these days, so they decided to leave him where he was.

“Hi, buddy.”

Maes took the chair and loudly dragged it closer to the bed. Only the sound of it made Roy realize that someone else was in the room.

“Hi there,” Roy smiled and looked at him _welcomingly_. Maes knew that Roy greeted everyone this way now. With a smile and a _welcoming_ look. Even Ed, for God’s sake. Maes knew that Roy often felt depressed before – who doesn’t after Ishval, after all – but he was never too depressed to not even fake it convincingly. Really, did he think that smiling at everyone in a non-sarcastic way was going to fool them? Did he think that they couldn’t see it? Or was he just too disinterested to even try?

“I brought another bunch of photos for you.”

Maes took out his new stack, and Roy followed him with his gaze, now attentively looking at his hands. Usually, he’d start complaining the minute he saw even one photo in Maes’ hands, but now he was rarely expressing opinions. He looked at all photos attentively. He once didn’t even complain about Maes reading the gardening tips from the goddamn magazine, and Maes selected the most boring article – about the ways to mown grass to make it grow slower.

“This is Elicia in her green dress with her new bike. Oh, you should look at this – she’s smiling at her daddy. Such a cutie!”

Maes almost crumpled the photo in his hands when Roy actually looked more closely at the smile. He hated it. He wanted to leave right now, but he couldn’t. He needed to get some genuine reactions. He needed his friend to open up. To say anything about what he felt. Anything that he could help with.

“This is she with her bike in her yellow dress. Doesn’t she look adorable? And there, this is Gracia’s hand. She has the most beautiful hands in the world.”

He looked up again, hoping for a reaction. An irritated puff, averted eyes, clenched fists – anything. But Roy was completely calm. He was _actually_ looking disinterested. Maes knew that Roy usually feigned his disinterest at photos – and his expression was different when he actually tried to _feign_ disinterest. In fact, however, he loved seeing the photos. Maes also knew that usually, Roy paid attention to _everything_ Maes was telling about his family. It was obvious from his gifts and the way Roy talked with Elicia. He always knew what she’d be happy to talk about and about her preferences for gifts.

“So how did you choose this bike, Roy? She was afraid to even touch her previous bike, but she loves the one you bought.”

Roy was still staring at his hand, even though he put the photo away already. But then, Roy snapped out of it and frowned, like he was trying to digest what was said. Finally, after too long of a pause, Roy answered.

“Different colour,” he blurted in a lifeless tone. He looked disinterested in their discussion or anything for that matter. “She hates purple.”

“How do you know that she hates purple?”

“A hunch.”

So it was getting worse, then. Whatever it was that went up to Roy’s head this time. Right after he gained consciousness, he was speaking in whole sentences even if his physical condition was much worse. Now, he said the minimum amount of words to answer the questions he was asked. He expressed the most appropriate emotions for every conversation. He was doing it as if he logically decided to convince everyone that he felt good, yet he didn’t have any energy to actually be good at faking not feeling depressed.

“Roy, please, just say what’s wrong with you and we’ll find a solution, okay? And stop lying to doctors or me because I see that you’re not okay”.

Roy was staring at the wall in front of him – where Maes held Elicia’s photos just a minute ago. His gaze was not focused on anything in particular. He didn’t answer right away.

“Roy?”

Roy looked at him questioningly and then smiled. Maes noticed in frustration how the smile was insincere – too wide and too happy.

“Sorry, I just got carried away,” Roy frowned, as trying to remember the question. “Lying? Doctors said that I have to rest more, that’s why I’m in bed.”

Maes punched the bed in frustration. Weren’t they all fools when they thought that the worst was over once the doctors pronounced him ‘stable’? Weren’t they all idiots for thinking that someone can come back from whatever happened there to complaining about bureaucracy and rains and asking nurses for phone numbers? Yes, by the way, Roy didn’t flirt with any of the nurses this time. Even though nurses seemed interested – his new fame as a selfless hero who saved a hospital with a baby in one hand and a sad kitten in another helped to build up their interest.

“I was asking why do you feel down.”

Roy shrugged and looked at him directly. There was something different about his face now, with collarbones being so defined. Despite everyone’s pleadings for him to eat, he still wasn’t eating very well, and what he ate wasn’t even nearly enough to get all his weight back.

“‘m fine. Just the rain. Hospital… Besides, the paperwork. Your photos too. Annoying.”

Maes knew that those were his friend’s standard explanations for why he felt down. Sometimes, Roy actually felt down because of these things – besides photos, of course, because Roy secretly loved them – but the actual reasons were always deeper. Maes wasn’t even sure if he knew all the things that Roy felt were wrong about him.

“Why, Roy? You weren’t like this after Ishval. And you saved everyone, don’t you see it? They write songs about you and you’re in all the newspapers. And you deserved it, alright? So why, tell me, you’re feeling this way?”

Now, Roy just shrugged and started reading the newspaper. Right, the newspaper. Roy kept two issues of the “People’s Voice” and was reading them from time to time. He must have learned them by heart already, and Maes didn’t really understand why his friend selected exactly these two issues to keep. They both contained an indecent amount of propaganda and articles about Roy, but so did every single issue of every single newspaper now. The government was milking it as much as they could, constructing a myth of alchemists who can save everyone or fight alone against the entire armies. Maes was told that the applications for State Alchemist program were exploding now.

“Please, tell me at least how you feel…”

Roy didn’t seem to notice the question. Then Maes remembered a perfect way to get Roy to talk about anything. He didn’t feel like giving up now. He dreaded coming back here tomorrow, reading all these goddamn tips on how to keep bees warm during the winter, and then come to this room to see Roy even worse than today. He felt like they were having not so much time now until Roy will just shut them all off completely. At least, today he got one sincere answer about the colour of the bicycle. So he had to try once again.

“All right, then I’ll bring the radio and you’ll have to listen to it until you talk.”

Maes left, looking for the radio. Roy didn’t like listening to the radio broadcast nowadays. Maes noticed it first when Roy walked for the first time since they saved him. He did it just to ask the nurses in the room nearby to turn off the radio.

Maes returned, placing the radio right next to Roy.

He saw his friend’s mask partially crack. Roy frowned just a little bit. Good. Something to work with. Then, Maes turned it on.

The first channel broadcasted a weather forecast. Not what he was looking for. The evening news on another. Nope. A broadcast of a football match from Central. No. He went over channels until he found what he needed. _The song_.

Upon hearing the first notes, Roy frowned deeper, now hiding underneath his pillows.

Maes increased the sound.

_“All I can think of is your gentle hands,_

_The grapes in our little garden._

_Do you think of fire in the woodlands_

_When watching our kids in sleeping haven?”_ the silky baritone voice on the radio was singing.

Roy grunted, trying to hide even deeper under his pillows, shutting his ears as strongly as he could. Maes increased the sound once again.

“OKAY, YOU GOT ME!” Roy shouted, moving out of the pillows, now trying to reach the radio himself. Maes easily snatched the radio away – and Roy knew that he was too weak to stop it forcefully. “Just turn it off, please.”

Maes turned it off before the chorus. Though to be honest, he quite liked the chorus. All this patriotic singing about the homeland and the need to protect was getting to him sometimes.

“What?” Roy asked, looking at the radio in disgust. Good. Any genuine emotions now were good.

“I thought that it’s not very considerate of you… To get kids and wife and only let us know using a propaganda song.”

“Fuck you,” Roy whispered somewhere underneath the pillow once again. “How do you even know if it’s about me?”

“The first page of the “People’s Voice” five days ago. By the way, considering all these newspaper articles, you probably named your son ‘Fuhrer’ and your daughter ‘Amestris’, right?”

“Is there a return policy?” now, Roy managed to get a blanket and the second blanket on top of the pillow. “Can I ask Fullmetal to take you back to the cave he took you from?”

Maes almost jumped, he was so happy. This looked like an actual, legit Roy-style complain.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on me, mate. I know you miss all your 8 children”.

“You just said that I had only a boy and a girl,” the lump under the blankets whispered in response.

“No, you have 4 boys and 4 girls. All boys are called ‘Fuhrer’ and all daughters are called ‘Amestris’.”

The lump under the blankets made a sound suspiciously close to a giggle.

Roy threw all the blankets away and sat up. His face was a bit blushed, his hair was dishevelled, and his expression was finally looking genuine – a little bit sad but focused.

“Yeah, actually I wanted to talk about something with you,” he said, looking at Maes. “A little request if you don’t mind of course.”

Maes didn’t mind. Oh, he liked that his friend actually asked for something. That he was looking directly at him. That he didn’t try to fake a smile or whatever Roy these days thought was a passable emotion for requests.

“I thought that maybe you should take Fullmetal under your command. What do you think?” Roy asked, and he looked genuinely _interested_ in the answer.

Maes was so caught up in seeing genuine emotions on his friend’s face that for a second, he thought that he didn’t hear it right. But Roy continued speaking, as if he prepared this argument some time ago already.

“I’m tired of doing these assignments,” Roy gestured somewhere undefined with his hand. The gesture was slow and unenergized. “Too dangerous. Don’t want to get killed.” He said the last phrase with a strange chuckle and smiling. Then, he stopped smiling, as if forcefully taking control over his own emotions, and looked at him seriously. “Really, these assignments are getting too dangerous. Cannot get killed with our goal, right?”

“Right… But in my office, he’ll be mostly confined to Central. How is he going to do his philosopher’s stone research, then?”

Maes was confused by the request itself. Fullmetal was like a prized possession for Roy. Finding him practically guaranteed him his promotion to Colonel, and now, after Fostet mission, his next promotion seemed certain. So he had very good chances to actually become the next Fuhrer now. Why would he want to lose Ed now?

“You need alchemists in rough alchemist cases. I need some rest. Just for a few months?” Roy looked at him and now, his face was _pleading_. Whatever it was, Roy felt that it was important. And Maes darkly told himself that Roy didn’t seem to _notice_ the actual question he was asking. He was telling his argument as if going through the plan he already had and not paying too much attention to what was being said.

“His philosopher’s stone research?” Maes insisted.

“You can always send him anywhere he wants. You just have to fake the actual reason you’re sending him. I was doing it for years now – like this time I told everyone that he was researching microbiology of plant cells. You cannot really tell more about the research, or it’ll be difficult for him to code his research, you know?”

This was the longest few sentences he said in a week now. So he was really trying. Did he really feel in no condition to deal with Ed now? To be fair, he probably felt that he’ll need some time to recover, and he didn’t want to limit Ed in the meantime. Or maybe he was actually dreading getting another mission like Fostet once again. Maes understood him completely. If he could go back in time and find a way to not go to Ishval, he’d do it in a second. Did Fostet actually feel like Ishval to Roy? Was it because of the unimaginable sacrifices he had to make to see everyone survive? No one would want to go over it again, and if Maes needed to pull a few strings to get Ed under his command, he’d do it in no time. There was also a way to make Roy talk a bit more.

“I’ll do it, but you have to tell him yourself. I’m not in any mood to tell him that his CO decided to leave the family. You know he really misses you as his CO.”

Maes didn’t add that Ed missed him as his former self. They all did.

Roy nodded, seemingly relieved with how the conversation went.

“Just bring him by any day,” he said, fully covering himself with blankets once again. “I’ll sleep now.”

Then, Roy stopped moving altogether – he was carefully faking sleep.

Maes knew that his friend wasn’t sleeping because there was a heart rate monitor in the room, and Roy’s heartbeat didn’t change at all. Maes knew that whatever got into Roy this time hampered his sleep pretty badly. Nowadays, Roy was barely sleeping at all. Not that before he was managing sleep well, but now it was even worse.

-/

Maes found Ed in the hospital the next day. There was a large patch on his forehead, and when Maes asked about it, he shrugged it off.

“We were sparring,” Al offered his answer. He sounded apologetic. Maes knew that the two were sparring all the time now since Ed seemed to find no other ‘useful’ things to do in his free time. He was constantly complaining about the absence of a library in the Southern command and once even chastised General Rawls for ‘living like a monkey who never saw an alchemic book before’. Strangely, Rawls found the argument amusing and ordered a few alchemic texts to be brought from Central.

“So what does the old man want to talk about?” Ed asked, placing his hands behind his head and looking to the other side, indicating how he was not interested in the answer. “About how lying in bed all day helps with the alchemic exhaustion? Never knew that he’d be too lazy to even get out of bed.”

Al’s hair bobbled a little bit, and he was looking like he was about to chide his brother for what he was saying.

“What, Al?” Ed said, challenging him. “First, he is stupid enough to get alchemic exhaustion from earth alchemy, and now he’s lying in the bed all day. He knows that he has to eat, yet he only eats if he is asked to. Like how on Earth can anyone be so stupid?”

“Brother, please… He was on this assignment instead of us, why can’t you say something nice about him FOR ONCE, BROTHER?”

Maes didn’t pay any attention to the bickering between Al and Ed. He heard its variations every now and then already. Ed calling Roy stupid, old, bastardy, pyromaniac-y, and all other nice things, and Al defending Roy. Maes knew that deep down, Ed was frustrated by the way Roy was behaving now, but he never felt like sharing his frustration.

Ed didn’t sit in the waiting room, dreading to enter the room like Maes did all the time.

He opened the door and confidently walked inside. This time, Roy actually noticed them entering – though to be fair, Ed and Al were loud enough even for him to hear.

“Hi, there!” Roy said and once again, he was smiling and _welcoming_. Maes looked away, ashamed at the sadness he felt every time when his friend smiled when he was not _supposed_ to. He couldn’t even explain it to himself. Technically, smiles were indicators of good emotions, right? So he shouldn’t feel so much dread every time he saw Roy smiling. He shouldn’t feel like they were losing time every day now. Yet he did. Was he a bad friend? He probably was if Roy didn’t feel comfortable enough to speak with him. No one fakes so many emotions around good friends anyway. But he was all Roy had, so he had to try to make Roy more comfortable around him, even if he had to read all the articles on planting thyme in autumn to gather the courage before entering this room.

“You wanted to talk, old man?” Ed asked, sounding almost polite. Almost. The guy probably never sounded polite in his entire life. “Wanted to ask me what those squeezy little lines the alchemists draw on the ground are, huh?”

“Brother, how can you…”

“We learned about the alchemic exhaustion _before_ we learned what an array is,” Ed threw up his hands in seeming bewilderment. “What did you do in your exam to get the license, Mustang? This must have been the biggest con of the 21st century.”

Roy laughed. Maes felt chills running down his spine because he could feel that Roy wasn’t laughing at the joke but at something he only knew about, something he felt was actually funny. Then, he abruptly stopped laughing and looked at Ed seriously.

“I want you to transfer to the Investigations Bureau in Central. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes will prepare all the forms and I’ll sign them once I get the full medical clearance,” Roy looked in the direction of Maes accusingly. He probably suspected why he wasn’t getting the medical clearance or the permission to go home, so he also thought that it was Maes’ fault that he couldn’t transfer Ed right away. Maes felt a little bit bad about it. If Roy was actually frightened of getting another assignment like Fostet, then he probably wanted Ed away as fast as possible. He probably knew that he wouldn’t get any new assignments for a while now, yet Maes also knew that people don’t act in the most rational way because of shellshock.

“Why?” Ed asked, frowning at the question.

“Why not?” Roy shrugged dismissively. “Your assignments will get more dangerous from now on if you stay in the Eastern command. The wars are not going away, Fullmetal. Soon, you’ll be old enough to be sent to do the same things I did in Fostet,” Roy smiled, widely, almost maniacally. “Did you like it in Fostet, Fullmetal? Do you think you’re so special that the military wouldn’t use you like the weapon you are? Or what you were hoping for when you joined the military? Considering your track record with the destruction of buildings and towns, you’re just the man for the job now, while I’m recovering.”

Ed visibly became paler, his eyes widened. Maes sighed. Did he really think that even in this condition, Roy wouldn’t be able to manipulate Ed into doing anything? It was good that Roy was speaking in full sentences and clearly thought out the whole dialogue in advance, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything about their decision to make the arrangement short-term. Nor Roy was telling anything about the fact that whatever happened in Fostet was actually very rare. There were only so many frontline hospitals that were suddenly cut off from the rest of Amestris with patients who needed to be evacuated and the soldiers lacking the ammunition.

“And besides, you’ll get to work with the rough alchemist cases around people who don’t know anything about alchemy. You can tell them about those squeezy little lines all you want now.”

This was quite good too. Roy did not only notice the jab but also took offence at it. If there was an unlimited supply of young alchemists under Roy’s command who needed to be manipulated into transferring somewhere else, Maes would be happy to take all of them to the Investigations Bureau, just to see his friend being _himself_ once again. Even if he could see that Roy was becoming less energized by the minute and less interested in the outcome of the discussion the longer it lasted.

“But what about…” Ed collected himself and continued in a calmer tone. “My philosopher’s stone research? I need to go outside Central once in a while.”

“Already discussed with Hughes. He’ll send you on work trips, so it won’t be a problem. Say a seminar about alchemic criminology in Urd or collection of materials on suspect’s relatives. There won’t be any issues.”

Ed paused and didn’t ask any more questions. He only briefly looked at Maes, as if confirming to himself that Roy already discussed it with him, and the promise to send him on ‘work trips’ was true. Al, on the other hand, was trying to say something very quietly to Ed – he didn’t look very excited at the idea of transferring to the Investigations.

“Then, I’ll agree,” Ed finally said in a confident tone. Well, this was fast. Maes was happy that Roy rarely used all his manipulations around him or even all the time around Ed. The power that he held in his lies and manipulations was terrifying.

“Brother, we have to discuss it.”

“Or I’ll tell you later,” Ed said, and then two brothers proceeded exchanging glances. “Anyway, prepare the documents, and I’ll sign my copy when it’s there.”

When Ed was leaving, he was seemingly more relieved and more confident. Roy seemed a bit more relieved too. But Maes could already see that Roy didn’t really have any energy to continue talking to him now. Instead, Roy lied back on the bed, covering himself with all the blankets and pillows. Maes knew that this was the favourite pastime for Roy now – and he’d do it all the time, if not for visitors or food or constant pestering of nurses that he needed to take care of himself. And somehow, the doctors thought that he was a mentally healthy, _improving_ patient.

Maes left the room soon, noticing Riza standing outside, watching carefully for any signs of danger. Strangely enough, in the last days, she didn’t visit Roy’s hospital room even once.

-/

They didn’t exchange a single word for the last few days.

Roy signed all the documents without a single complaint, whereas Riza stopped bothering to explain what the documents were for. If she thought about it, she should have dropped the act a long time ago. She knew that Roy would sign anything she brings to his desk – she knew that his trust to her was unlimited. Explaining the documents was needed more for him to be informed about his own day-to-day decisions because he rarely bothered reading them before signing.

Yes, he was quite irresponsible. But Riza rarely minded it. Signing the documents became an act for them a long time ago. She pretended like she asked his permission for all these decisions. He pretended like he hated paperwork – he did indeed hate it, but he didn’t really hate signing the documents next to Riza. They both were looking forward to this small bit of interaction every day.

Now, he dropped the act too. When she came by his hospital room with a stack of documents for the first time since he woke up, he genuinely complained about them. He was trying to get her to pity him over his condition to avoid signing it. He pretended that his hands didn’t work. He was actually, genuinely looking for ways to procrastinate even while lying in his hospital bed without anything else to do. But then, over the last two weeks, his complaining became less emotional. Less energetic. He actually preferred to sign the papers instead of complaining, and he complained just because he felt like he had to complain. Instead of elaborate explanations on how exactly his condition hampered him signing the documents, he started limiting his complaints to a few short phrases, like “too much” or “hate paperwork”. After their last conversation, he dropped his act altogether, and now he was signing the documents very fast and very efficiently.

Their last conversation was bad. They had an argument for the first time in a very long time. It started with a recommendation letter. Someone was recommending a promotion for Riza because of her ‘outstanding’ organization skills in Fostet crisis. They recommended she’d become a Captain overseeing the new civic rescue operations office in Central.

Normally, when Roy received letters like these – the ones in any way requesting to take anyone from his team somewhere else, he became furious. Extremely furious. He felt like people in his team were his pack and anyone attempting to snatch them away deserved his _revenge_. Last time, General Armstrong argued in one of her reports that Riza and Jean could be ‘adequate’ for the work in Briggs. It wasn’t even order or recommendation or an actual request. Riza felt like it was more praise towards her and Jean rather than anything else. But no, Roy didn’t want to take chances. He hated it the minute he saw it. He burned a stack of paperwork that day especially viciously. Then, he calmed down, went to the Armstrong mansion, spent several hours socializing with Philip Armstrong – the head of the whole Armstrong clan – and _‘incidentally’_ convinced him that only an heir who lived in the mansion deserved to get any inheritance. The topic of transferring her and Jean to the North never came up again.

But this time, when Roy saw the recommendation, he signed it right away and _nodded_. Initially, Riza thought that he didn’t pay any attention to it. In fact, however, he was paying attention. After signing it, he proceeded to tell her that all Fuhrers had the rank of a Captain at her age too, and it was _great_. She didn’t like it. The implications of what these words meant because it was Roy who was supposed to be the Fuhrer and only him. So she asked him directly, and he just shrugged it off. He said that she had to prepare to be a ‘backup plan’. She didn’t like being a ‘backup plan’ – weren’t they supposed to put all the efforts into him becoming a Fuhrer? Especially, after Fostet, when it seemed like a very realistic plan. He insisted that she had to be the ‘backup plan’ or even the ‘plan A’. Jean could be her backup plan, and he even suggested writing a recommendation for Jean’s promotion.

He also told her that their bodyguarding arrangement was off anyway, as she never fulfilled her part of the promise. He told about it to her a few times already. He felt that somewhere in Fostet, he irrevocably failed to follow his right path and it was ‘obvious’ how he failed, and she had to proceed with her promise. Which she didn’t, of course. She wouldn’t allow the shellshock to speak instead of Roy. She didn’t feel that she’d be able to kill him anyway. And now, he was arguing that she had to transfer somewhere else because apparently, he didn’t want a bodyguard who _wouldn’t_ kill him after he saves a hospital full of sick people.

Of course, she told him that she refuses to go to any other office, and she’d refuse any promotions. To which she learned that her opinion didn’t matter in any of that. He proceeded to write an _additional_ recommendation for her transfer to Central.

They hadn’t exchanged a single word since then.

The recommendations were on their way to Central, and Riza was sure that once Roy gets the medical clearance to transfer his officers away, he’d transfer both her and Ed.

She knew that shellshock did it to people sometimes. The fear was all-encompassing. They thought about the emergency exits of every single room they were entering. They felt like they’d have to launch into a fight every second of their lives. Maybe these backup plans and backup plans of the backup plans were part of the shellshock?

Riza heard a quiet cough next to her and looked up, realizing that Roy already finished with all his paperwork. He was sitting there, looking out of the window, still and disinterested. She looked over the pages. It was strange that now, Roy became more efficient at signing paperwork than ever in his life before. He signed every single page. He signed Ed’s drawings of clouds. He signed a blank page that accidentally got there. So he wasn’t paying attention just like always – some things stayed the same, after all. She decided that the next time she makes a life-long promise with anyone, carefully doing the paperwork should be included in the list, and killing the person with which they were having a pact for the undefined reasons – definitely excluded.

Then, she heard the laughter and heavy steps somewhere in the corridor. Roy heard them too, and now he was desperately trying to hide underneath the blankets to fake sleep. Which was quite difficult with a pen in one hand and a stack of reports next to him.

“Hi, Chief!” Havoc said, followed by various greetings from the rest of the team – Breda, Falman, and Fuery. “I’m glad to finally catch you not sleeping, Sir. Strange how your sleeping schedule seems to be sleeping exactly when we’re about to visit.”

Riza smiled inwardly. The guys had a very… original way of showing their disapproval of Roy’s recent behaviour – such as going on this mission without telling anyone or failing to take care of himself without constant reminders.

Seeing them, Roy genuinely frowned – not the emotionless mask that was there just a minute ago, when he was signing the papers.

“Is there anything I can do to make you all leave?” Roy asked, looking at them almost pleadingly. “I have the partial medical clearance now, so what about a bonus for building the tunnel?” He smiled a bit maniacally. “You’d definitely need it after I sack all of you once I come back.”

“Yes, Sir, we’d need compensation for all these newspapers we’re buying,” Breda answered. “After all, we’re doing our best to keep you _informed_ , and we have to buy them ourselves.”

Havoc clapped his hands, as if remembering something. Then he opened his bag and showed everyone the new issue of the “People’s Voice”, as if demonstrating a prized collection.

“Sir, I’m so glad that they keep posting the interviews with Suzanne in the women’s section,” he said, grinning. “I felt so bad when she dumped me to date you. At least now I have something to hold onto when I’m depressed because of my crumbling personal life,” Havoc exclaimed, dramatically bending his arms. “I’m glad I’ll get to share my experience with my commanding officer – by reading this interview to him aloud,” he continued speaking, his expression personification of excitement.

“If you read anything from the “Women’s section” to me once again, I promise, I’ll demote all of you,” Roy was sounding genuine. “Or even better, I’ll give you all a promotion and then slowly demote you to the rank of private. I’ll give you a bad conduct demotion every single time. I’ll act slowly, so you feel the full extent of my wrath,” and he was actually sounding furious.

“Oh, Sir, why would anyone want to discharge us over wanting to _inform_ our favourite commanding officer?” Breda asked innocently.

 _“The confession of Flame Alchemist’s girlfriend: of heroism and infinite love,_ ” Havoc started reading in his narrator tone – loud and with many intonations.

“Please, no,” Roy whispered, clenching his fists and looking around for his gloves. Last time, he burned the newspaper and Havoc’s shirt with it. But since Roy accidentally burned his own hands while ‘playing with fire’ as he said himself, Maes hid his gloves away. Seeing that there were no gloves around, Roy sat up with a determined expression on his face. He was looking like someone preparing to be tortured.

_“I saw him in a small café in Central, reading a philosophy book. I couldn’t stop looking at his exotic onyx orbs – like bottomless oceans only reflecting the light of distant suns and the wisdom of thousand years. I couldn’t stop thinking about his beautifully disarranged raven hair and the muscled arms under the t-shirt.”_

Roy started looking around, visibly contemplating on whether or not he should get under the pillows. He felt too proud to hide under the pillows for these talks even if he still did it once in a while, and, especially, if he heard the _song_. Riza almost forgot her grudge against him this very moment – she thought that the urge to hide under the pillows was indeed lovely or even _cute_.

Breda took the newspaper in his hands, as it was his turn to read aloud. Riza suspected that this was his idea after all – to torture his commanding officer into taking care of himself by reading the newspapers sounded exactly like him.

 _“I spent every day in this café, looking at him, trying to get him to notice me, reading the same books he read. And he did it. He noticed me. I’ll forever remember the first words he said to me: ‘I am getting lost in your eyes. Why would I want to look at the stars when I can look in your eyes?’_ ”

On the other side of the room, Havoc was complaining that he also used this pick-up line on her, but she left him for Roy nevertheless. Roy managed to keep his defiant look although Riza could see a smile creeping into his expression.

 _“I knew right away that he was the love of my life, and I was his,”_ Breda continued reading. _“Our love was perfect and endless like the horizon of the blue sea in a starless night.”_

“Aww, Chief, you’re so romantic”, Havoc said.

“Is she the mother of your 8 children Hughes is telling everyone about, Sir?” Fuery added, sounding terrified of his own bravado. “The ones called ‘Amestris’ and ‘Fuhrer’?”

“I think you should have named the girls ‘Amestria’, Chief,” Havoc offered his advice. He was smirking. “And calling them all ‘Fuhrer’ is a bit pointless since they couldn’t all be Fuhrers, right?”

“Yeah, but to be fair, our current Fuhrer’s first name is ‘King’. Do you think his parents named him ‘King’ and all other children some other names? Or were they all called ‘King’ and then only one of them became the Fuhrer?” Breda answered, sounding way too cheerful.

“Sir, if I may add something,” Falman interfered, sounding as fearful as Fuery. “Our previous Fuhrers’ first names were ‘Tsar’, ‘Rex’, ‘Caesar’, ‘Raja’, ‘Prince’, ‘Duke’, and ‘Stefan’. There is certainly a tendency there.”

“Stefan doesn’t sound right,” Breda answered in a contemplating tone. “Sir, do you think you should call at least one of your sons ‘Stefan’? By the way, how did you manage to get 8 children before you’re 30? Is it why you’re so sleepy when in office?”

“ENOUGH!” Roy stood up – probably for the first time in the entire day and made a few steps in the direction of Breda. His fists were clenched, and his entire posture was threatening, even though his steps were unsteady. When he was right next to Breda, he grabbed Breda by the shoulder and said very quietly: “I won’t demote you from the army for this,” he smiled maniacally. “But I’ll personally see to it that in all your assignments, you’ll deal with dogs.” Seeing how Breda became visibly paler and his eyes widened, Roy smiled victoriously.

But then, Breda calmed himself down and answered in a firm tone: “You know that we’ll stop if you visit the physical therapy session and eat your dinner.”

“I don’t need physical therapy. I’m completely fine – if it wasn’t for Hughes, I’d be discharged weeks ago,” Roy answered – yes, by the way, Roy expressed his opinion just fine when someone asked him to do anything. Which he rarely wanted to. But this time, he begrudgingly agreed.

They all followed Roy to the elevator and then to the first floor, where there was the physical therapy room. This scene in its various variations continued every other day for the last two weeks now. Roy needed to be constantly nagged to get him to do things. Previously, he only needed it for paperwork or – if he was feeling especially lazy – to get to work in time, but now some everyday things needed a reminder. Like having to eat dinner. He didn’t even forget about them, he was too dismissive of his own condition to willingly do any of it. Riza was glad though that the team found a perfect method to force him into doing anything.

-/

Once Roy was conscious enough to insist on her transfer somewhere to another team, she decided that he didn’t need her protection as much anymore. She still ran his security clearance, but she felt that it was fine if someone else was guarding him – soldiers from the Southern command practically worshipped him for what he did, so there was not so much she had to do to keep him safe.

He was insisting that their pact was off anyway.

More than a week had passed since the damned recommendation for her transfer came up, and they still didn’t exchange a single word. Thus, she found herself spending most of her time in barracks. It was nice in a way. In barracks, she could work on her paperwork alone, without all the distractions of the offices. Everyone from the team was nearby, and she could always find them to give them tasks or check on their progress with their own paperwork. In a way, it was efficient, since the main distracting factor for them was removed – Roy Mustang with his habit for procrastination and the common office that worked so well as a place for socialization, pranks, bets, and rarely – actual job.

However, being in barracks was not completely satisfying – and for the same exact reason – all other people from the Team were nearby. She could hear exactly when someone lost a bet. She could hear Ed being angry or frustrated, and, especially, being called short. She could hear their arguments with Al – there seemed to be more of them as of recently.

And now, at two in the morning after what was a very busy day, she could hear Maes angrily pacing back and forth in his room. He was talking in a hushed tone and from the sound of it, throwing something around. Riza already tried to distract herself in the same way Roy was spending most of his time these days – by hiding under the pillows and pretending that nothing happened around. But it didn’t work. Besides, she couldn’t stop thinking that it was strange for Maes to get so frustrated. He usually accepted whatever happened around him with defiance, even when he was in Ishval. His usually calm demeanour was exactly why Riza chose a room adjacent to his in the first place.

She tried counting sheep, and when the 100th sheep started walking around in rhythm with the sounds from the adjacent room, she decided that this was it. She had to check on Maes. She got out of bed, put her jacket on, and walked to the nearby room.

Maes answered after the third knock, seemingly surprised to see her. She walked inside his room even before he could invite her.

His room was in disarray, and in the middle of it, there was a half-packed suitcase.

“Did something happen at home?” she asked, worried that something happened with Gracia or Elicia.

Maes shook his head, and then sat on the couch next to her, bowing his head. He looked like someone who just lost something important to him.

“I didn’t know he could be this cruel, Riza,” he said then. She could barely hear his voice – so defeated he sounded. “I mean, the decision to force him into therapy was right, wasn’t it? He improved tremendously within the last week. I know that it’s not because of the therapy itself because he sabotages every single one of his sessions – and is super proud of it – but he clearly improved. It was like a wake-up call for him. He eats 3 times a day like a normal adult now. He visits his physical therapy. He speaks in full sentences and notices all my questions.”

“I agree. He improved tremendously in the last week only.” Riza didn’t add what wasn’t being said between them. The only reason Roy improved was the fact that the realization that he was considered ‘coo-coo’ – in Roy’s own words – made him furious enough to do all of it. The therapist himself probably couldn’t help much. Roy proudly told everyone how he flunked every single one of his sessions by lying, making arguments about psychiatry or not responding to the questions at all. This was probably also the reason why Maes was angry now. Roy knew exactly that Maes threatened the doctors into making the therapy sessions mandatory for his discharge. And of course, he took it all out on Maes. They got into arguments every day now, and Riza saw that Maes was hesitating much more before visiting Roy.

“But you don’t have to leave, you know? He’s not himself this last month, and he will regret whatever he said to you later.”

Maes continued throwing his t-shirts into the suitcase. Riza absentmindedly noticed how there seemed to be a t-shirt of every single colour under the sun.

“Not himself? Oh, he’s exactly himself. He knows exactly how to get under my skin and uses it. He plans it in advance, Riza. Maybe it’s true. Maybe I panicked beyond what was needed. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on him being there longer. He clearly improved enough to manipulate everyone around him. He even got someone from the Southern command to go to Central and bring back one of her drawings!” Maes was a personification of anger. He was breathing so fast that his glasses steamed up a little bit, and his fists were clenched. “I wasn’t there in the drawing. Only Gracia. And her birthday is coming up.”

“Sure, he didn’t mean that you’re not doing well as a father. It’s shellshock, he’s not acting rationally.”

Maes threw a bunch of newspapers into the garbage bin. Riza could see that those were two issues Roy was reading all the time.

“He’s acting rationally. Can’t you see it? You have to think clearly to come up with so many ways to say that someone is failing as a father. Oh, and he also has a good theory on why I’m a bad father. Apparently, I lost all the ideas of morality after Ishval, and me staying friends with him is a proof for it. Because apparently, you’re not supposed to be friends with a war criminal. It’s the same as condoning the crime itself.”

Maes started closing the suitcase. His items barely fit inside, so he had to close it forcefully. Riza could see how he was happy to do it and to punch it too.

“Was he referring to himself in this last argument? You know that the fact alone that he’s saying it means that he’s not acting rationally. And we were all in Ishval. We’re all war criminals then.”

“Apparently, now, war crimes only happen when someone uses alchemy – he had an elaborate argument on that. Something about alchemists being strong enough to defy orders,” Maes shrugged. “He explained it to me in the pauses between calling me a bad father and a person who lost all the definition of morality. Anyway, Elicia’s birthday is tomorrow. I’m not missing it to listen to all of this ever again. And I will let the doctors do whatever they want. Even if they don’t see any issues with him, he won’t improve unless he admits that there’s a problem.”

Maes successfully closed the suitcase, but nevertheless, he gave it a few more slaps.

“I think the doctors will discharge him as soon as I leave. Call me if anything happens.” Then, Maes looked at her sincerely. “I’m sorry for leaving. This got too much for me. I guess I’m a bad friend. I know you’re stronger than me. So please, do everything you can not to push him away. I know he still needs help even if he doesn’t admit it and even if he tries to push everyone away.”

Riza nodded and then she left.

Deep inside her, she knew that she wasn’t able to do what Maes asked of her. She and Roy had an argument already when he decided that she should be transferred out of his command and that their pact was off. Now, the only people who visited him and didn’t get in any sort of argument with him were Alphonse and General Rawls. Which was an unlikely combination for helping him to admit his problems and deal with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late with my update :)  
> I kind of thought that I could easily write a WIP with only 1 chapter ready before posting and update it once a week, but apparently, smarter people do it differently. I also didn't expect this fic to get this long. I thought it'll be over in a 10000 words because what else I'd be able to write about?  
> Anyway, my last chapter got too long, and I decided to split it in two. The second part is ready - I only need to edit it, so I expect to publish it on Friday.  
> Once again, thank you for reading this and for your feedback.  
> As for the chapter itself, "Women's page" is based on the actual women's pages in the newspapers back in the last century, and I hope that it's obvious that in my fic, it's a parody of sexism rather than condoning it.  
> By the way, if anyone is interested to beta the last chapter or exchange concrit - not that I really can offer much in response, as I'm not a native speaker - I'd be happy to work with you. Just let me know.


	10. Chapter 9, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter references a suicide attempt

9, part 2/2

Rawls made a point of visiting Mustang once in a while. He wanted to make sure that his _appreciation_ of the sacrifice was known. Besides, he didn’t let go of the idea that Mustang needed some guidance. Yes, he already had a rank of a Colonel. He was a veteran of Ishval. A state alchemist. He survived Fostet. Yet he was still a young soldier, and Rawls felt that Mustang still had a naïve idea of what a good commander is and especially _is not_ responsible for.

For example, in his first visit, Mustang offered a sincere apology for failing to protect the life of Oliver. Rawls mourned the death of his Lieutenant greatly, but he failed to see how Mustang of all people was responsible for his death. Mustang explained that he didn’t send him back like he was supposed to, but it was ridiculous – there was no way he alone could have stalled off the advances of Aerugians as long as both of them did.

Another day, Mustang argued that Rawls didn’t have any right to send Fullmetal or Lieutenant Hawkeye to build the tunnel to Fostet. He was still convinced that the best decision in this situation was to jail anyone who wanted to save him since they didn’t follow his orders. Rawls was all for punishing people for insubordination and having a strict _military_ order in the military of all places, but he didn’t see any problem with sending military officers on an assignment that wasn’t very risky in the first place.

So Mustang definitely needed some guidance, and more so than what Grumman could provide. Rawls was fond of Grumman’s intelligence and his ability to plan in advance – young Mustang definitely learned some of it from Grumman – but Mustang also needed guidance about simpler things. That commanding officers couldn’t save everyone. That sometimes subordinates die, missions end catastrophically, and people make mistakes. And good commanding officers must learn to live through subordinates dying; they must learn to forgive their own mistakes and not seek revenge for what seems to be a random accident. Rawls struggled himself with learning all of it, and he’d be glad to talk about it to someone who definitely deserved his guidance.

But they didn’t really have a chance to talk a lot. They discussed some trivial things, like a military tactic, technological developments in the military, and tank warfare. Rawls enjoyed these conversations to some extent – Mustang wasn’t interested enough to keep up with them, but he still knew enough to last through half an hour of conversations. But once they started discussing deeper themes and something Rawls actually wanted to talk about, Mustang tried to stir the conversation to another direction or shut down entirely, only giving very short answers.

Today seemed like one of these days when Mustang wasn’t up for a conversation. Mustang improved a lot in the last week, but he still had troubles keeping up with conversations.

They already had quite a tedious conversation about using alchemic spikes against tanks. Rawls was carrying most of the conversation, whereas Mustang offered a few comments about using ‘minerals’ and ‘quartz’ components of the earth for these spikes, whatever it could mean. Seeing how there were not so many useful avenues for trivial conversations, Rawls decided to move to the main discussion he wanted to have today.

“I’ve heard you’re planning to mix up your team a little bit,” which was code for ‘what for God’s sake is going on with your decisions around your team?’.

“I don’t need a Lieutenant who doesn’t follow my orders,” Mustang said, sounding dismissive. “As for Fullmetal, he requested the transfer himself. By the way, I have a good Investigation Specialist and an Officer in Charge up for grabs if you’re interested.”

So Mustang also decided to throw everyone out of his team. It was quite strange. Rawls rarely saw anyone caring so much for their subordinates and then simply deciding to get rid of everyone they cared for. Though to be fair, shellshock – or whatever condition Mustang obviously had since returning from the assignment – manifested in various ways. Maybe, he felt that those people brought him closer to the danger, and now he was trying to start a new team with people who wouldn’t remind him of what happened. If so, Rawls welcomed it. He saw too many soldiers unable to continue their life in the same way as before, and he was glad that Mustang was actively looking for ways to start anew.

“It’s a shame to see such a good team being dismantled. But I guess you have your own reasons to make this decision.”

“Right, I do.” Mustang looked at him sincerely. “By the way, I was meaning to ask the other day. I’ve read a book on frucionism when I was on the train to the Southern command…”

“I’m listening.”

“One of the 13 commandments in frucionism is actually very close in meaning to a commandment from Ishvalan scriptures. ‘Not fighting evil is evil in itself’.”

“If you are hinting at the recent articles in ‘Nature’ on common origins of Isvhalan religion and frucionism, then I’d disappoint you. Finding similarities in scriptures doesn’t tell anything about the existence of God – it only shows the generosity of God if he sent similar orders to people from different religions.” Rawls smiled. These young alchemists – always laughing at the idea of God, always looking for ways to show how religions were nothing more than mere human creations… Maybe Mustang was getting better, after all, if he decided to engage in the conversation about the existence of God.

“No, I’m not talking about the existence of God. The religious moral philosophy remains a coherent philosophy even in the absence of God. What I’m interested in…” Mustang frowned and then for the first time in this entire conversation, looked Rawls directly in the eyes. “… is the meaning of it. Am I right to conclude that it means that simply allowing evil to exist is evil in itself?”

This was something new. People rarely took interest in religions when they didn’t believe in God. Why would they – if they didn’t believe in eternal rewards and punishments in the afterlife? But Mustang seemed to be interested in the morality dictated by the religion itself. Interesting.

“Yes, this scripture tells us that we have to fight evil rather than sit idly by, or otherwise we ourselves become evil.”

Mustang nodded enthusiastically. Whatever it was he was looking for, he clearly found a confirmation for himself.

“This is a good commandment showing the generosity and the wisdom of God. Or, for you, alchemists, of the people who created the religion,” Rawls smiled. He wasn’t one of these indoctrinated religious extremists who didn’t want to even have a conversation about potentially non-holy origins of the religions. “It teaches people to fight injustices. To help ill people. To fight hatred inside us. There’s nothing that is inherently evil – only circumstances shaping something in an evil way, and we have to put our efforts to bring evil back to its original state, as it was intended by the God.”

Mustang looked out of the window, frowning, clearly thinking about something. There was a pause for some time, and when Rawls thought that the conversation was over – quite awkwardly once again – he heard Mustang speaking.

“There’s actually something that is inherently evil.”

“Huh?”

“Weapons of mass destruction. I don’t see how they’re not inherently evil,” Mustang was sounding completely convinced in his answer.

“Aren’t they only a fidget of military theory, something that doesn’t exist and wouldn’t exist in a long time?” Rawls started and then gave it a few seconds of thoughts. “But then, even if it existed, you wouldn’t say that it’s inherently evil, as you wouldn’t say that swords are evil. They’d only be evil if they were used in a way that propagates evil. Then, if only one country has a weapon of mass destruction, it’d stop wars, as other countries wouldn’t want to start a conflict with it, and there’d be no reasons to start conflicts in the country that actually has the weapon, as everyone would follow their lead in whatever they suggest. If anything, weapons of mass destruction may be a guarantee for a long peace.”

“Really?” Mustang smiled. “It wouldn’t be fair to the citizens of the countries that don’t have a weapon of mass destruction, would it? Let’s discuss a simple example. Say you have to make a decision on how many weapons of mass destructions each country on Earth should have.”

“I’m not really following, Colonel.”

“It’s a simple moral test. Once again, imagine that you are in power to make the decision to allocate weapons of mass destruction across countries on Earth.”

“And?”

“There’s a catch – you’ll have to live on Earth yourself once you make the decision, and you don’t know where on Earth you’d end up,” Mustang continued. “Isn’t the decision simple?”

“I probably would give the weapon to one country only, and as I said, it’ll deter any conflict.”

“No, you wouldn’t give any weapons to any countries. Since you don’t know where on Earth you’d end up, you wouldn’t want to risk living in a country that doesn’t have a weapon of mass destruction and may end up destroyed any day.”

“What about giving weapons to everyone?”

Mustang smiled maniacally.

“Then weapons of mass destruction become just another part of the war. People would use them against everyone, and the whole world would be destroyed. That’s why the only acceptable solution would be to not give any country a weapon. And that’s why weapons of mass destruction are evil,” he finished, convinced.

“Well, I can follow your argument to some extent – even if I still don’t agree with the inferences you make. But your argument is more like philosophy essays in schools – it doesn’t have any relation to the reality anyway. No one gets to make choices like these.”

“I guess, I do,” Mustang said quietly, and then started speaking very fast. “Actually, this moral test was created by a philosopher who had the same name as you. I took all philosophy classes in the Academy – really helps with women.”

“Oh, so you don’t just sit in cafes waiting until they fall in love with you?” Rawls couldn’t help but make this jab.

“Huh, but they say in these articles that I had a philosophy book – so it actually helps. This and talking about chemistry. Women automatically start liking me because they think that I’m smart. Though it once misfired when I met this girl who had her PhD in both Philosophy and Chemistry. I guess I seemed quite unsophisticated to her. She dumped me after one date – said she only wanted to spend a night with me. Which hurt quite a lot, to be honest.”

They were talking about women for some time after that. Mustang seemed interested in the conversation, remembered a few funny anecdotes from his life and made not more than 2 self-deprecating jokes about what women were thinking when they were dating him. Rawls left the room in a good mood. For the first time since he started visiting Mustang, they had an open and what seemed like an honest conversation. Even if it was about girls. The guy wasn’t that far affected by the shellshock, after all, if he was up for telling him stories about his conquests. Though there was something about this conversation that felt amiss. Something terribly amiss. Rawls couldn’t place it – and he decided to think over this conversation once again, once he finishes with his duties for today.

-/

There weren’t many arrays with suns in them in existence. And especially there weren’t many Ed could learn while staying in the Southern command. Those which were available most likely were the works of amateurs who used the sun to decorate their arrays, not to designate the soul and especially not to create the philosopher’s stone. Ed felt that his research was slowing down, but he refused to even think about leaving – even though Mustang suggested that he should leave every time they met. Not that they met often, Ed wasn’t feeling like he wanted to visit this hospital room more often to see Mustang’s sulking ass somewhere under the blankets once again. Ed felt grateful. He felt extremely grateful, and that’s why he had to tell Mustang to move forward. To use his two legs and two arms and stop being such a useless sulking bastard. But there were only so many times Ed felt like he could go inside this room and scold a man who saved his life and was in the hospital for weeks now because of it.

Al was another matter. He dutifully visited Mustang at least twice a week, and every time – with a new story on what he was going to eat once he gets his body back or how many kittens he was going to adopt when he grows up. Al also didn’t support the decision to leave Mustang’s team in the slightest. They had arguments about it once in a while. Al didn’t believe that in Investigations, Ed would be safer. Al liked Hughes and he liked looking at Gracia’s pies, but he felt that Mustang had to be their CO. That Mustang proved himself every single time that he had all their best interests in mind. Ed wasn’t sure about it. Mustang personally asked him to leave – so it was likely that despite the likely promotion, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him. Ed trusted Mustang to at least estimate his own ability to protect his subordinates correctly. So Ed agreed to the transfer. The documents will be ready in a day now once Mustang gets the full medical clearance. Even if the man didn’t even remotely look like he was healthy. He was still recovering from the weight loss – and in three weeks since he was saved, he wasn’t close to a healthy range. His mental state was not really improving, at least from what Ed heard from Al.

That’s why he had a second project in mind.

Whatever Mustang had could be summed up as being in a low mood. As for the cause, Ed suspected it was either a side effect of alchemic exhaustion or shellshock. Anyway, it didn’t really matter – all he had to do was to add the serotonin to Mustang’s stupid brain.

Humans weren’t extremely complicated. All adults consisted of 35 Litres of water, 20 kg of Carbon and multiple other elements. An organic matter that was tricked into thinking and hosted the soul. Illnesses also didn’t have any complicated causes – they all were just a chemical imbalance inside the body. If you get a virus, it starts killing the healthy cells and producing more viruses. As a result, chemical imbalance. If your organism doesn’t produce enough insulin, then you’ll get diabetes. If you’re in a low mood, then you most likely run low on serotonin.

All he needed was a simple array that would fix Mustang’s brain with the necessary amount of serotonin. If he wasn’t able to add a simple chemical where it belonged, then what was his worth as an alchemist? Just one array to solve everything. Like he and Al needed just a little stone to get their bodies back. And the solution was so close, much closer than the philosopher’s stone. And he won’t have to look in these lifeless eyes ever again. He won’t have to listen to simple “Thanks” in response to his mission report containing only weather descriptions. He will get to listen to all these elaborate teasings and do the stupid assignments which in reality have a different goal altogether. He’ll bash Mustang and parody his teasing of him. It’ll be just like it was.

“Brother, are you here?”

Al was standing in the doorway with a little flower bouquet. Probably was about to visit Mustang and decided that flowers will help. They never helped before, but Al was an optimist.

“Yeah…” Ed looked over his array once again and decided that it was time to show it to Al. “Al, can you look over these?”

Al nodded and brought another chair to sit next to Ed. Once seated, he started looking over Ed’s notes.

“Is it for Mustang?” Al asked after carefully examining the array.

“Yes. Decided that I had enough of his sulking.”

Al didn’t answer, now reading his notes and the cited texts.

“So what do you think?” Ed asked, now confused by the lack of an answer. His brother usually didn’t answer right away when he was doubting Ed’s decisions.

“Your array is good. You are trying to create something extremely complex and you’re emulating the way the cells in the brain synthesize serotonin. Or at least what we know about its synthesis.”

“Is there a ‘but’, isn’t it?” Ed asked, frowning.

“Yes… For one, it is very close to human transmutation, and we already discussed that we shouldn’t ever in our lives even consider it.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Alchemists don’t need a human transmutation for a simple manipulation with the organic matter – like what medical alchemy does to heal the injuries.”

“Even if it’s not a human transmutation and your array creates perfect serotonin – which we don’t know because there are not enough studies on the chemical structure of the molecule, it’s still extremely irresponsible.”

“Irresponsible how? Are you saying I just have to sit there and let him deteriorate when he saved my life?” Ed was almost shouting now, furious at the idea that it was he who was irresponsible. He wasn’t the one who was idly sitting next to Mustang, chatting about cats and pies as if there wasn’t something completely wrong with Mustang. He wasn’t the one who didn’t even try to do anything.

“How? Are you even asking, brother? How do we know what’s his level of serotonin is at the moment? How do we know how much he needs? How do we check if there’re any side effects of this solution or if it even works?”

“How about we ask him? Isn’t Mustang the one who has to decide?”

“He agrees to everything now, Ed. You’d see it if you actually visited him! Yesterday I asked him if I should adopt 100 cats when I grow up, and he just nodded. Havoc and Breda said that he agreed to increase their salaries 1000-fold, and now they’re betting on a billion-fold increase. He is not capable of this decision, whereas you don’t have anything to offer. We won’t test it on people, and we cannot offer him something without knowing if it works or has any side effects.”

Ed stood up and kicked the table in frustration. Al was right. Al was always right unless it came to cats – because he was probably actually looking forward to adopting a hundred cats once he grows up. But what he had in mind was so tempting. One simple array. He noticed that he felt terrifyingly similar to the time when he lost his mother. Then, he thought that one simple array would return her back. But what he was thinking about now didn’t have anything with souls or returning dead to life. It was a risk, but it was worth it when he could return Mustang to what he was a few weeks ago.

“I don’t even think that serotonin is going to help – it’s not like he became depressed just now,” Al said very quietly, almost whispering.

“Of course, it would, Al! It’s probably a side effect of the alchemic exhaustion we don’t know yet. You lose your weight, then you lose serotonin. We only need to add it back.”

“The General said that he knew the risks when he volunteered,” Al said after an uncomfortable pause.

Ed almost forgot about it. It seemed to happen such a long time ago… Yes, he volunteered knowing the risks – every single newspaper in Amestris was describing how noble and great it was.

But then, if he was already depressed at the time, then the decision to volunteer made more sense.

Ed frowned, now looking at the facts under the light of the new realization.

Like why wasn’t the tunnel finished within a week? Sure, they got stuck in the cage, but they said that they were in the cage for 2 days only. Judging from the size of the tunnel and the usage of caves in its beginning, it should have been finished before the week was over even when adding the days they spent in the cage.

And why didn’t they ask for Ed’s and Al’s help? It wasn’t dangerous to simply build the tunnel, and he’d help them to build it much faster.

All these decisions one by one could pass for heroism or mismanagement. But once put together, they showed a pattern. A dangerous pattern.

“I think we need to talk to Lieutenant Hawkeye, Al,” Ed said, and then closed his notes. “You’re right, simply pumping him with serotonin won’t probably help him.”

-/

It was only during lunchtime of the next day when it finally hit Rawls.

What exactly was amiss during their conversation with Mustang yesterday.

He was eating in the cafeteria, having just signed Mustang’s full medical clearance when he started remembering more details from their last conversation. Then, he stopped, suddenly realizing one big mistake they all were making.

He left his lunch where it was – on the table, in the middle of the cafeteria – and started running in the direction of the hospital. He ran into a few soldiers, and he saw that he must have been worrying everyone – you don’t see a general running around the military base so often – but he had to be quick.

It all finally made sense.

Mustang’s mood and obviously fake smiles and the absence of any energy to interact.

The fact that he was actively dismantling his own team.

The conversation yesterday.

The two issues of the “Voice” Mustang was constantly reading.

The way he always looked out of the window in the direction of Fostet.

This definitely wasn’t shellshock.

It was obvious, yet he and everyone else were stupid enough not to see it. He personally was stupid enough to sign the medical clearance as the temporary commanding officer.

Mustang probably already had a gun.

He ran faster, terrified out of his mind of what was going to happen.

When he reached the hospital, he stopped for the second and saw that doctors were not looking panicked. So at least, they didn’t hear anything strange, right?

Then, he ran to the elevator and started pressing the button. How much time was it since Mustang received his gun back? Did he receive his gloves too? Was there anyone else in his room? Initially, Lieutenant Hawkeye spent all the time in Mustang’s room, but the last few visits, she wasn’t around. Mustang must have scared her off with his ideas to dismantle the team.

The elevator arrived after he must have pressed the button at least a hundred times.

He walked inside and barely managed to find the button to go to the fifth floor – he was so panicked himself.

Oh, Mustang cared for his subordinates. He didn’t do anything yet because he wanted to transfer them to good positions and commanders. It wasn’t surprising now that Mustang asked him about General Stain in Central – Stain would be the new commanding officer of Hawkeye and possibly Havoc if they take into account Mustang’s recommendation. From what Rawls heard, they will.

And Fullmetal. Mustang was transferring him under his friend’s command. Rawls knew that whoever gets Fullmetal, will also claim all of his successes for himself. In case Mustang does what he wants to do, there will be a big contest for Fullmetal’s supervision. The young alchemist may even get harmed in the process. Instead, Mustang decided to transfer him under his friend, and thus was both protecting Fullmetal and giving his friend a useful resource to get a new promotion.

Of course, all his subordinates would stay worse off without Mustang – so in a way, Mustang wasn’t really protecting them.

The elevator stopped, and the sign on top of the door showed ‘5’. Finally. It felt like an eternity.

He ran directly to Mustang’s room. Thank God it was close to the elevator.

He opened the door abruptly, almost breaking it in the process. He gasped for air and looked in the direction of the bed, terrified of what he was going to see.

Mustang was there.

Alive.

The gun was next to him, its barrel in the direction of the window.

Mustang was deep in his thoughts, pale and his hands trembling. He didn’t notice Rawls arriving.

Rawls used his confused state of mind and ran to the bed. He was very close to the bed when Mustang reached out his hand and took the gun himself.

“Colonel Mustang, put the gun down. It’s an order,” Rawls said loudly and firmly.

Mustang didn’t notice him right away. His hands were trembling. He looked at the gun longingly. And then… he took the magazine out of it in a swift, drilled motion.

“Colonel Mustang,” Rawls repeated.

Only then Mustang realized that there was someone else in the room.

“Sir?” he asked, confused at the sight of Rawls in front of him.

“Give me the gun, son,” Rawls reached out his hand. Mustang looked like he didn’t understand the question. Then, he nodded and gave the gun to Rawls.

Rawls quickly placed the gun in his inner pocket. Only now, he noticed that on a bedside table nearby, there was an envelope with the words “To all of you” written over it.

“I didn’t try to…” Mustang was explaining now. “Whatever you think I wanted to do – I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t pull the trigger.” Mustang pulled his legs from the floor and hugged them. “I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing any of them again. But at least you’d agree. I should have done it,” he finished with the conviction in his tone and looked up at Rawls.

“Should have? Done what? The biggest mistake you could have made? Why would anyone agree with you?” Rawls barely managed to contain his fury – and paternalistic instincts. Mustang right now didn’t look like the colonel of the Amestrian army. Or a smug young man who came by his office a month ago and volunteered for a suicidal mission. He looked like a sad little boy who needed protection and guidance – with his sulking posture, thin arms and the youngish face.

Mustang shook his head.

“You see it, don’t you? I’m no different from Kimblee. I destroyed everything in Fostet. Hell, I get to be praised as a hero for needlessly killing an entire battalion. Unlike Kimblee, no one even tries to stop me.”

Rawls sat next to Mustang, right on his bed, and started talking in a quiet and calm tone.

“Are you talking about the last explosion? Because these two issues you’re constantly reading are the only ones with detailed photos of what was left in Fostet. They also are the only ones who have any estimations of the enemy losses.”

“The Aerugians call it a diabolical explosion. They think I’m the devil, and I fully deserve it,” Mustang’s voice was trembling.

“Tell me one thing, Mustang,” Rawls turned in the direction of Mustang and also pulled his legs on the bed. It was weird but whatever. He needed to talk to him and let him see it that he wasn’t right. “Why do you feel so much guilt over the enemy soldiers? I know you’re a good man and I know that you’re trying to make good moral decisions, but how does killing enemy soldiers trying to capture a hospital makes you evil?”

“When I had my state alchemy exam, all I did was creating a little fireball – not bigger than a fist,” Mustang started telling, quietly. He gestured in the air, showing how small the fireball was. “Other people created beautiful things right away. Marble sculptures taller than the hall of the auditorium, sharp swords out of plain dirt, robots that were stirred alchemically… And I was the only one who got certified.”

“And?”

Mustang shook his head.

“I created a small fireball because all I needed to show was that I can control fire. Marco wanted to give me the certification the same moment. And the reason is simple – fire alchemy is the most energy-efficient one ever created.” Mustang sighed, seeing no understanding on Rawls face. “I understand that now, I don’t look like someone who knows anything about energy efficiency in alchemy. But hear me out. The efficiency of alchemy depends on 3 simple things. First, the efficiency of the array. Some arrays transport the energy better, and, as an example, Fullmetal has a hack for great arrays – rarely anyone had it at his age. Then, the skill of an alchemist is important. You have to make calculations for every reaction, and if you’re good at these calculations, then you’ll be more efficient,” Mustang paused, taking a deep breath. He was calming himself by the second. “The most important part of what makes the alchemy more energy-efficient is the matter that is being manipulated. That’s why Fullmetal was angry at you when he learned that I used earth alchemy. Earth, metal, stone, marble – all of it is heavy. You will run out of the energy very quickly when you manipulate it – of course, depending on the skill of the alchemist. Armstrong was able to build the tunnel for several days straight and he didn’t lose any weight in the process.”

“So is there something special about fire?”

“Yes, indeed. It was always hypothesized that if you’re able to control fire, then the power will be almost unlimited. Because fire weights nothing. Now, of course, I know that I cannot manipulate the fire directly, but a flammable matter. The end result is the same – I don’t have to manipulate anything heavy.”

Rawls sighed. He understood all of it, yet he failed to see the connection – to the gun, the newspaper issues, Mustang’s depression. Mustang himself clearly knew all of it before, so it wasn’t really clear if it actually had a connection to his depression.

“You still don’t see the connection, do you?” Mustang asked and then continued speaking. “Most of my energy when I create fire goes to control it. I have to create a vacuum or a wall of certain gases everywhere around the actual explosion. It’s not very easy and it uses a lot of my energy. But, if I don’t want to control it – if I only want to create a big fire, then it’s so easy. I only have to manipulate the flammable matter – and even then, the fire will become bigger itself. It’ll feed on the flammable gases in the atmosphere. This fire will be devastating. It’ll destroy everything around me and even more. These photos don’t show the whole extent of the destruction. They don’t show how excessively violent it was. They don’t transmit the smell of smoke and of burned flesh everywhere. They don’t show the sounds of someone dying in pain. And I did it all in a second. Tired of exhaustion. I was just so… scared of being captured or dying there alone that I thought that it was the perfect solution at the moment. I didn’t even consider that there were people around me. There was a child soldier among Aerugians. I talked to him a little bit. He was so scared, and he wanted to go home, and he was even younger than Fullmetal. Now, what right do I have to say that I care for Fullmetal when I killed another child without even thinking about it? So yes, all I am is another Kimblee with even stronger alchemy, and nobody to stop me.”

“No, you’re not anything like Kimblee. Don’t you even dare…” Rawls was furious at the very idea. Here was the man who sacrificed everything for his soldiers, who apologized profusely for only one causality in the operation that should have claimed many more people – and he dared to compare himself with Kimblee? The maniac who didn’t care for anything or anyone? Who only killed because it was his way to find beauty? No way on Earth!

“The main difference between me and Kimblee in Ishval was that I only followed orders. I never resorted to the unnecessary violence unless I was ordered to,” Mustang smiled. “It’s ironic, actually. I thought a lot about whether or not I had a choice. I clearly am a war criminal, but then I was ordered to be a war criminal… This thought only helped me to survive it. That I wasn’t fully responsible and that somewhere else there were people in their cabinets, at their desks, who simply ordered us to do it. And that we could do something about it, right?” Mustang looked somewhere in front of him, as if not seeing anything. Then, he continued. “But this time, there’s nothing that excuses me. No orders. No sense in this action. Only excessive violence without any reason. That’s exactly what Kimblee was doing in Ishval – regardless if he killed our soldiers or Ishvalans. The main difference is whether he was ordered to.” Then, Mustang looked at him directly, apologetically. “I know what Kimblee did to your soldiers, Sir. And I dare tell you how I justified my crimes being a state alchemist… I’m so sorry.”

Now, Rawls just didn’t care. He moved closer and hugged Mustang. The hug caused an astonished glance from Mustang, but he didn’t move out of the embrace right away.

“You’re not like Kimblee. I met you no more than 4 times in my life, but I am entirely convinced that you’re not,” Rawls told with a conviction in his tone and only then moved out of the embrace. “Now, after talking to you, I agree that you didn’t have to do what you did at the end,” Mustang looked up, as if he only heard this part, and nodded. “This was a mistake, but it was a mistake bourne in evil circumstances. In the war where you remained an only soldier standing against an upcoming army, dying of exhaustion and terrified of what was going to happen. You should not only be able to see and recognize your mistakes – which you obviously do very well – but also learn to understand them. To forgive yourself for them. To strive to be a person who wouldn’t do them again – and to fight against the circumstances that shaped this mistake in the first place.” Mustang wanted to tell something in response, but Rawls continued speaking. “That’s what frucionists and Ishvalans talk about when they talk about ‘fighting evil’ – the one principle that you so nicely interpreted in the wrong way.”

“I don’t believe in God anyway,” Mustang shrugged.

“Whatever – just don’t try to justify your depressive thoughts by wrong interpretations of our doctrines. What I wanted to really say though, is that if you want to do anything about the _circumstances_ that lead to the war, then I and my loyal soldiers are at your disposal.”

Mustang looked at him in surprise, gawping, with his eyes wide open.

“Am I hearing it right?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. I know I am way too old to do it myself, but there’s only one reason why we have these endless wars. And it’s in Central. All these people who refuse to negotiate, refuse to return the prisoners, who order us to use excessive violence on the battlefield… They’re in their cabinets, somewhere in the Central command. Now, the rumours say that you dream big. And from what I saw during the mission, you don’t care for orders and rules if it allows you to save more soldiers. So I’m guessing what your next big step could be – and, once again, my soldiers and I are at your disposal for it. Even though I’m afraid that I’m signing up for building a democracy or whatever fancy ideas university students in Central are cherishing nowadays – I am sure that even democracy will work with the right people building it. I believe in you, Mustang.”

For a second, Mustang was looking completely surprised. But then he smiled and shook his head.

“You almost got me, General. But I know that you must be pitying me after seeing the gun and…” Mustang gestured in the direction of the letter. “I don’t need your pity, Sir. Please leave.”

“Are you implying that I agreed to help a potential coup because I saw you with the gun in your hands? Do you think I’m that irresponsible with my soldiers? If anything, if I had to force you to stop, then I’d have never suggested it. But you stopped yourself. You showed that you can fight dangerous urges within yourself. And you opened up. You told me about your thoughts and mistakes, and how do you perceive them – you weren’t afraid to look weak in my eyes. I know that it must be easier to tell to a person who, as you think, doesn’t like all alchemists – and you probably were looking for validation of your thoughts – but anyway, it’s great that you admitted your weaknesses. There are no great men. There’re only people who want to work on themselves, and you’re making steps in the right direction. That’s why I want to follow you.”

“What if… I just can’t? I’m so tired. I either feel angry or nothing at all. There’s no sense in placing your trust in me.”

“Make a little step, then. Speak to your friends as you speak with me. Try to see if there’s anything that brings you good emotions. Try as hard as you can, please,” Rawls looked at Mustang sincerely. “I knew you for no more than a month. And I’m already willing to risk my career to see your goals through. Don’t you think your friends would have more things to say? I know it’s hard to move on but at least you can try.”

They didn’t have a lot to speak about. So Rawls left shortly after. He proceeded to notify the doctors about what happened and then called a certain Lieutenant Colonel Hughes in Central. He knew that Hughes was the one who orchestrated the rescue mission – so he must be the one who will be able to do something. Rawls also got himself a few maps of Central. Now, he knew that one day, he’ll have to order his own troops not to fight the enemy outside Amestris but the enemy inside. He was sure that young Mustang will be able to see to it that it happens. Seeing him at his lowest point meant that he will only improve from now on.

Huh, and he most likely agreed to turn Amestris to a democracy.

Figures.

-/

Maes hadn’t slept for the last 48 hours. First, he was packing his suitcase the entire night, after having this _nice_ evening conversation with Hawkeye. Then, he took a very early train to the Central where he couldn’t sleep at all, worried about leaving his friend and frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help Roy. He bought a plush hedgehog on his way home, and only somewhere in the middle of his ride home, he remembered that Elicia hated purple. He had to drive back to the toy store and buy another plush toy – this time, a plush elephant that was thankfully grey and red rather than purple. He got to contemplate on how bad a father he was if he was returning home after not being there for an entire month and having forgotten his only daughter’s least favourite colour. Maybe Roy was right, after all.

Then, there was a big birthday party. Elicia was adorable, in her small blue dress, running around and absolutely happy that her father was back. Gracia’s pies were delicious. She herself was the best woman on Earth, and no one ever would persuade him otherwise. It was his personal little paradise. He was so happy, all the worries of the previous day forgotten.

Until there was a call.

Rawls didn’t say anything in particular besides ‘being a bit concerned’ and ‘having rescinded the medical clearance’. Once, he said something about a ‘gun’, and Maes felt like his head exploded in worry. He left right away, giving his daughter and wife a swift kiss.

He barely managed to catch the evening train. There was only one train in the evening to the Southern Command, and he was glad that he made it.

In the train, he read a book on psychology his wife quickly packed in his suitcase while he was still talking with Rawls. She was precious. She prepared his suitcase even before he told that he had to leave, and she understood perfectly that he had to leave once again. And her medicine books – from her work as a nurse – were precious too. Sometimes they helped him when he didn’t understand the coroner’s reports. Or his friend’s behaviour. So he spent the entirety of the train ride to South reading about psychology and then re-reading the book, trying to see where he made the mistake. In the hindsight, he made many of them. He didn’t get to sleep in the train either, out of his mind worried for Roy.

Now, he was finally in the hospital, in Roy’s room, at 5 in the morning. Roy was sleeping, alive and without any noticeable injuries. But he was under suicide watch.

Maes felt his heart clench at the idea that he left his friend there, clearly not thinking straight, - after believing in his attempts to push him away instead of trying to help him, trying to get him to open up, showing that there were so many people out there who _cared_ about him, regardless of circumstances. Even Rawls who was well-known for his hatred of alchemists took more interest in Roy’s well-being than anyone expected him to.

Maes didn’t notice how he fell asleep right there, on the chair next to Roy’s bed.

He woke up because he felt uncomfortable. There was a soft blanket on him, but his neck _ached_. Oh. He moved his head with a soft moan and started looking around for his glasses, only then realizing that he fell asleep in them. In front of him was Roy, sitting there, looking concerned for _him_.

“Sorry, I should have taken your glasses off. Or moved you on the bed. I’d do it but there’s this nurse that checks on me every 30 minutes, and I wouldn’t be able to get her number if she finds us sleeping together,” Roy was blabbing while not looking at him at all. His gaze was directed at some undefined spot on the floor.

Maes automatically noted that the sentence was long and well-structured, and his friend didn’t look entirely disinterested, but then he remembered _why_ exactly he was here.

“Are you okay, buddy?” he started tentatively, not knowing how to start the entire ‘how did you end up under suicide watch?’ talk.

“Better… Than yesterday, I guess? I dunno,” Roy shrugged, and then continued. “I’m so sorry. I knew that Elicia’s birthday was yesterday and I wanted to do it anyway. I’m so sorry that you had to come back here. You must have missed her party. And I didn’t even buy a present… And I’m so sorry for what I said about you not being a good father – it’s inexcusable because you’re the best father on Earth,” Roy was trying to tell something else, and he was sounding so apologetic and sad that Maes felt like he was about to cry. But Maes didn’t have any of it. He moved closer and hugged his friend. To be specific, squeezed him like the fate of the universe depended on the force of the hug.

“I’m so happy that you’re alive and talking to me. I was so scared that I’ll find you with another wound or catatonic or shutting down the entire world once again.”

“Hey, I need to breathe,” Roy told somewhere under his hug, and only then, Maes moved away, albeit hesitantly, because he wanted to hug Roy as long as he could, because his friend was there, breathing, alive and sounding like himself finally. Apologetic and emotional. But then, he remembered what was being said, and he frowned. “So the only thing you think you have to apologise for is that you wanted to do it on the day of Elicia’s birthday? Does your life mean so little to you that all that matters is that you don’t suicide on the day of my daughter’s birthday?” he shouted the last sentence, terrified of the _extent_ of Roy’s depression.

“I’m sorry anyway. You probably missed the party. And you fell asleep right here… I’m sorry that you were so worried,” Roy was talking quietly and very apologetically. “I know there should be other reasons besides not wanting to worry you, but I’m working on these, okay?”

“It’s my fault,” Maes told then. “I should apologize…”

“What? No, you don’t have anything to do with it!” Roy answered angrily.

“I do. I… Remember when we were in this bar that sold obviously standard Amestrian whiskey, but they all pretended like it was from Xing?”

“Hmm… Yes, it was right after Ishval. We got drunk and you tried to teach me how to throw knives. I’m glad we only used sticks for practice,” Roy smiled. “How does it have anything to do with this? You’re not to blame for anything. I was bashing at you, swearing at you, and you’re still here. You don’t have anything to do with the fact that I didn’t control my emotions.”

“I do. Remember, how at the bar, I started pretending like I was talking to a therapist? Like it was a funny thing to do. And then I continued doing it every time we met – it was just another running gag for me… And I also once called Igor ‘coo-coo’ for being discharged because of the shellshock. You used this exact word when you were talking about screwing up your therapy sessions. So it’s on me. And then when I found you with the gun back after Ishval, I just shrugged it off like nothing happened. If you ever had a chance to get better and take the psychologists seriously, then I destroyed it. I’m sorry, Roy. I’m the worst friend that could be there.”

A section in the psychology book Maes was reading on the train ride was on stigma. That stigma rather than anything else made it difficult for people to seek help before it was too late. Yes, he was young and stupid, but his comments enforced the stigma in his friend’s eyes. Roy wasn’t ever an open person and seeing how his best friend treats other people with mental conditions or the medical treatments available, he wasn’t going to see that sometimes you need these nice things like psychotherapists and anti-depressants.

“No, you didn’t shrug it off last time. You made Hawkeye practically move in with me. Which was like the best months in my life. And you called me every single day – so in the hindsight, they probably weren’t the best months…”

“Anyway, as I said, you had depression after losing so much weight and all I did was only deepen it.”

“No!” Roy exclaimed and looked him in the eyes. “I wanted to do it because I fucking killed an entire battalion of the Aerugians without even being ordered to,” now, his voice was trembling. “It’s not like I even wanted to get treated… I still don’t understand what I can do now. It’s not like I can just move on and act as if nothing happened. As if I didn’t kill hundreds only because I was a little bit scared.”

“Hundreds?” Maes frowned, trying to remember the events that seemed entirely too distant to him. “How you’d be able to kill hundreds there? The reports said that the Aerugian division matched in size with the platoon at the hospital, so there’s no way on earth that you were able to kill hundreds… Stop, are you telling me that you took the newspaper – the same newspaper that was writing about your non-existent children with exotic eyes and the fact that you died protecting a child from a bomb – and believed in the death count of Aerugians reported in this newspaper?” Maes sounded astounded. Because if anything, his friend was very intelligent. He was a good liar himself, and thus he easily saw through other people’s lies. Especially considering that no one believed anything that was written in the “Voice” for that matter. That’s why he also didn’t pay any attention to the estimation of the death count in the two issues Roy was reading all the time – he simply assumed that his friend wouldn’t ever believe it.

Roy gawped at it, his eyes widened. Then, he looked away, clearly ashamed of believing in it in the first place.

“Okay, I need a psychotherapist if I believed it… But anyway, I needlessly killed so many people. Don’t you see it? You and Hawkeye are both blinded by your feelings towards me. You don’t see that I used more violence than necessary and don’t even try to say anything about it to me! There was a child, Maes. I burned a small child to ashes. He was younger than Fullmetal and all he talked about was how he wanted to see his mother and sister,” Roy sulked and bowed his head into his hands. Maes could see tears somewhere underneath his palms. “He was one of our captives. I was so happy when we were able to exchange the captives, and then I just… killed everyone. I didn’t even think that anyone else was here in the field in front of me, I just wanted more fire… And I thought that the fire was beautiful until I’ve felt the smell of burning flesh… Don’t you see how I’m becoming more like Kimblee?”

Maes took Roy’s hands in his and moved them away from his face. He wanted to look him in the eyes.

“Did you give food to this child soldier you were talking about?”

“How did you know?” Roy asked astounded.

“Because I saw this child of yours. Personally, carried him over the field. And by the way, there were traces of steps out of the trenches. And everyone who was in the trenches or beyond the trenches survived. What I’m telling you, you probably killed Aerugians in this blast – but clearly not as many as you imagined it.”

“Was he with the red hair? And freckles? Are you sure?” for a second, Roy looked almost euphoric at the thought that he didn’t kill the child soldier.

“Yes, the one. He also talked about his mother and sister and was very scared.”

“Yeah, he was scared that he’d be turned into a wolf the other day,” Roy sounded euphoric but then he sulked again and started speaking quietly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Unnecessary violence is wrong. Violence for the sake of there being more fire is wrong. I didn’t control myself, and I killed too many people too violently.”

“Would it help you if I say that Aerugians were attacking the hospital and you had every right to defend it?” when Roy shook his head, clearly rejecting this justification for his action, Maes continued. “And that at the end of the day, they didn’t capture the hospital and have to retreat to their original positions now? As they cannot station the forces without the farms.”

“Yeah, and they didn’t capture the hospital because they thought that the earth there was cursed. And that I’m the devil. Do you see how destructive it is? And you still condone me for it?” Roy said, clenching his fists and looking down.

“Just like Ishval, it’s another thing that’s not up to us to decide, okay? The last time, in the case with Ishval, it was because we were ordered to. This time, the question is if you did something too excessive while protecting the hospital. I personally think that you were to some extent justified. But it’s not to me or to you to decide. We had this talk already, remember? We won’t ever get the real justice in the current Amestris, and we don’t have the right to decide what’s going to happen to us until we actually create the functional democracy and the military tribunal. You remember the whole argument, not only the part where we’re to blame for what we did, right?”

Roy nodded.

“So what, are you still with us and will work towards completing our goal?”

“I’ll try… Really, I’ll do my best… I know that I have to improve,” then Roy frowned. “Even if we don’t count the blast… I was a terrible friend recently, telling you so many bad things about how bad of a father you’re. You’re not supposed to forgive me just because you pity me over the… you know, the watch.” Roy didn’t manage to tell the word ‘suicide watch’, clearly too ashamed of being there in the first place.

“I’m not forgiving you, okay?” opposite to his words, Maes patted Roy on the back. “We’ll have a good talk about not manipulating your friends and never saying anything like this ever again, okay?” seeing how Roy wasn’t looking convinced, Maes continued. “And we’ll have a bar fight over it, okay? I’m just waiting until you’re healthy enough to get your ass handed to you.” He reached his hand to shuffle Roy’s hair, and Roy didn’t say anything about it. He usually didn’t like when Maes got to affectionate with him, but this time, they both felt that they needed to compensate for the animosity between them in the last month.

Then, Maes heard the door behind them open with a loud bang.

Ed entered the room right away, his hair dishevelled and the entire posture threatening.

He walked inside confidently, looking straight at Roy.

“Mustang,” Ed shouted, sounding _furious_. “You fucking moron I need to talk to you.”

Maes stood up, trying to see if Roy needed his protection. But his friend nodded, indicating that he was okay with having a talk with Ed.

Then, Maes left them two alone. He could see that Roy was getting more sensible and was opening up. There was clearly a long way forward – and just like with Ishval, Roy wouldn’t ever forgive himself for what he did, but at least, he was moving towards the improvement, so it was a good start.

-/

Ed folded his arms and frowned.

“What, getting a medical clearance comes with a new hospital room? With a window to the corridor? How did you manage to get a _smaller_ room _after_ you were supposed to be discharged, Mustang?” Ed said and then paused, realizing that he was the first to bring up the word ‘small’ to their conversation. But whatever. He needed to tell what he wanted to tell quickly and move on with it.

“Oh, you don’t know, then?” Mustang said absentmindedly.

“Don’t know what?”

“Nothing,” Mustang smiled way too cheerfully. “There are the most beautiful nurses on this floor. Had to move.”

Ed didn’t really care about it. Now, there was an uncomfortable pause between them.

“I wanted to inform you that I’m not transferring to Central,” he started, looking at Mustang defiantly. “If you try to transfer me anyway, I’ll get discharged and then volunteer in the Eastern command so I’ll be under your supervision, you idiotic moron.”

Mustang raised an eyebrow.

“I’m flattered, but why?” he simply asked, sounding tired and unconvinced at the same time.

“Because, for fuck’s sake, you were lying!”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean you probably lie all the time, so you don’t remember. But. You. Were. Lying!” Ed told with pauses after every word to emphasize his anger. “When you told that it was the standard way how alchemists have to fight on the battlefield.”

Mustang’s throat bobbled and he looked away.

“It’s true. The explosion at the end – I had no right to start it,” he said quietly and apologetically. “You’re in every right to hate me for it. It’s inexcusable.”

“Do you mean the one when you evaporated a lake? I don’t care – you had to do it I guess,” Ed shrugged dismissively. “What I’m talking about is the entire operation. You were behaving like a stupid moron, so don’t even try to tell me that all alchemists have assignments exactly like this!”

“What?” Mustang blinked and then looked at him in confusion.

“Just let me tell you the facts. So first, you volunteer for this mission instead of me even though no one ever invited your stupid ass and despite the fact that the mission description included earth alchemy, not the pyromania that you do in your job.”

“Well, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you. Because you clearly would have done better, wouldn’t you, Fullmetal?” now, Mustang was sounding irritated.

“Just hear me out. A good option would have been to invite me and fight together, but no, instead you sabotage communication lines in the entire town. You actively prevent anyone from reaching me. Then, you could have discussed it with your subordinates – because they found a solution at the end – but you didn’t. Instead, you lied to Lieutenant Hawkeye as convincingly as you could, and if it wasn’t for the guy she worked with, she’d never learned about the mission. If you talked to her first, then the tunnel would have been ready in time even if we take into account them being stuck in the cage for 2 days.”

“How do you know about Hawkeye?”

“I talked to her. In fact, I interviewed everyone who was around you at the time.”

“I know you like my military strategy talents,” Mustang folded his arms and smiled smugly. “But you shouldn’t have done it. I’d personally tell you all of it.”

“Yeah? Like you were talking in the last three weeks? With smiles and lying about how great you feel? So yes, I didn’t finish with my list. Because of your active sabotaging of the communication lines in the city where I was at, your team couldn’t invite me so I could help. Because you asked Lieutenant Hawkeye to be jailed for insubordination, there was another pause… Now, in Fostet, you did a lot of stupid things. Colonel Higgins said to me that you were just walking in front of the firing squad. And that you also went to fight with the retreating army alone to retrieve another soldier. And that the said soldier tried to kill you and you just shrugged it away like it was normal behaviour. Then, when you could have ordered the soldiers to be in trenches, you decided to send them to help the doctors and started fighting in the trenches yourself. And, finally, in the end, if you’d have asked soldiers to stay, then you may have all survived until the tunnel was actually ready. Instead, you decided to stay there all alone like some idiotic pretend-to-be hero.”

“Well, as for the decision, in the end, it was justified because we didn’t have any information about the tunnel. It was the best strategy at the time, and it worked! Besides, I think I was justified in every other decision. I still think that you all shouldn’t have risked your lives to save me.”

Ed was so angry at the last words that he almost slapped Mustang. Instead, he hit the mattress of Mustang’s bed and then kicked it just to be sure.

“You’re a fucking moron. Yes, every single one of these decisions alone makes sense. Put together, they show a pattern. And you’re a scientist too, so you could see it.” When Mustang frowned and didn’t answer – what a joke of a scientist, isn’t he? – Ed continued. “Every single one of these decisions was taken with disregard for your own life. If you needed to sacrifice anything, you always made a choice to sacrifice yourself.” Ed shouted the last sentence, moving closer to Mustang and pulling him up by the collar. “And now, don’t you dare tell me that all state alchemists get treated this way by the military – when it was you who didn’t care for your own life in the first place! Moron.” Ed added with a note of finality to it, weakening his grasp on Mustang’s collar.

Mustang struggled out of Ed’s grasp, breathing heavily.

“You’re overstepping your boundaries, Fullmetal. You don’t have any say in my decisions – as I’m nothing more than your commanding officer,” he said coldly, his face emotionless.

“Yeah? You’re not. What you did made Al terrified. He didn’t want to speak to anyone for days when you were sleeping your ass off in this hospital! You know that he needs a father figure and then you go on and do stupid shit like this?”

“A… Father figure?” Mustang asked confused.

“What else, dude? Do you think he talks about his favourite pies and stray cats to everyone in the army or what? You’re the only adult with whom he opened up so much. He fucking adores you! He doesn’t even let me tell you that you’re a stupid moron, so I had to sneak here so early in the morning.”

“And what, do you imply that my decisions should be dictated by the fact that a _brother_ of my subordinate needs a father figure? Go into some “National Papas for Children Initiative” or something, don’t bother me with this.”

This time, Ed actually slapped him.

Roy straightened, holding his hand at his cheek in confusion. It looked like he wanted to answer with something, but then he visibly decided not to. He became disinterested in their conversation – his face lost all emotions right away.

“Just listen to me, okay?”

Roy nodded without any interest. He leaned against the wall, looking just like he looked most of these last three weeks.

“I’m thankful to you. You can’t imagine how much. You offered me a way forward and your protection with it. I suspected that you tried not to send me anywhere dangerous, and now I see that it’s true. And I’m extremely grateful that you tried your best so that I wasn’t sent to Fostet,” Ed looked at Roy and frowned, seeing no reaction. “You’re not a father figure to Al only.”

Ed hesitated whether he should tell it, but then he decided that he didn’t care how many subsequent embarrassments he was earning right now.

“You’re a father figure to me too, moron.”

Mustang looked up, his face in confusion.

“What did you say?” he asked, frowning, trying to focus on the conversation. His face was starting to fill with emotions.

“That you’re a moron. And a father figure to me too.”

At that, Mustang gasped, but then he carefully took control over his own emotions. And then he smirked.

“Well, I personally think that if I were a father figure to someone, then this person wouldn’t talk like _a drunken sailor at 15_ , you _dwarfish little pipsqueak_.”

“WHO DO YOU CALL SO SMALL THAT HE’S BEING STUDIED AS PART OF QUANTUM PHYSICS?”

Mustang smiled – bastard – clearly glad that his jab worked as intended.

At that, Ed straightened and looked at Mustang seriously.

“Really, it means that we care for you. And that you have to care for us. Which includes not throwing your life away like you were trying to do the entirety of Fostet mission. Please, Mustang.”

“Why so honest so suddenly, Fullmetal?” Then Mustang bowed closer, looking at him carefully, looking as if trying to smell something. “Did someone offer you an alcoholic drink? If so, I’ll personally talk to them.”

“No! Ugh, alcohol is disgusting – you need to be some stupid weirdo like you to drink it,” Ed scowled remembering the only time he got to drink a sip of wine and how terrible its taste was. “I decided to talk more honestly because half of the issues in the Fostet mission happened because you didn’t talk to anyone. So yeah, I guess I don’t want to grow up like you.”

Mustang smiled smugly.

“Oh, now I see the family resemblance, Fullmetal… Because if I’d get turned into a kid, I’d totally never want to be like you too, _the microscopic bug-sized minuscule baby whom I couldn’t even see_ …”

Ed shouted something in response and received another carefully created size-related insult. They must have been doing it for an hour straight as if compensating for the entire month of missed teasing. Nurses peeked inside the room, wrote something in their notebooks and left.

Ed finally left after a few hours and further persuasions for Mustang to stop being such a stupid ass.

He left in a good mood – albeit slightly spoiled by a nurse who asked if his parents were there to pick him up.

-/

Riza collected all his things from the barracks – a small suitcase, filled with spare uniform and a few books on religions of the East and South. She heard about the argument Roy made about evil, so she was contemplating whether she should throw these books away. Roy was clearly improving – albeit slowly – and he still was in a low mood from time to time. She decided to leave these books in the suitcase as they were. She wasn’t paid for him not to get high on philosophy books and elaborate moral arguments.

They didn’t really have a good chance to speak since he was moved under the suicide watch. Her heart still clenched at the thought of it. That he, so brave, smart, and strong – that he considered something so terrible and final. She was glad that he himself regretted the decision and apologized personally to everyone who knew about it – which at the time included only the doctors, Maes, her, and Rawls. General Rawls was a godsend. He didn’t report about the suicide attempt to Central, so it all could be treated without a compromising line in his CV. Rawls also informed Roy that he only agreed to this on the condition that Roy will actively try to work on his mental health – by talking to the therapists, opening up to his friends and avoiding the situations that brought him in the low mood. Which she guessed was good too – neither of these threats would work unless Roy wanted to improve himself. He did well for the time being… Another thing Rawls did was writing in his final report to Central that the source of the final explosion was unknown and shouldn’t be confused with the flame alchemy. He even wrote in his report about all the ‘inconsistencies’ of this explosion with the flame alchemy. The truth was that in fact, this explosion was not in any way like the controlled explosions Roy usually made. He must have been in severe distress when he made it. Personally, Riza didn’t hold a grudge against him for it.

She collected her own suitcase from her barracks and started moving in the direction of the hospital. Today was the actual discharge day. And she still considered that she worked under his supervision, despite the fact that the transfer papers arrived yesterday, and today, Roy had the necessary medical clearance to transfer her anywhere. She told him already that she’d do the same thing Ed promised to do – get discharged and then volunteer to the Eastern command – in case he actually goes on with this decision.

In the hospital, she quickly walked in the direction of his room. She knew that he felt uncomfortable about being constantly watched, but then, she decided that once they’re back in the East city, she’ll move in with him like she did last time when they were afraid for him.

She knocked at the door, waited for his response and walked in. He was in his uniform, and, finally, he looked almost like himself – albeit a little bit thinner.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, seeing the suitcase. He moved closer to his suitcase and started putting other things in – what looked like his research notes and a few newspapers.

“Sir, with all due respect, don’t you think that you should leave these two newspapers here?”

He shook his head.

“I need to keep them. My therapist said it’s okay as long as I don’t read them obsessively – it’ll help to work with my memories and so on,” he was telling quietly. Recently, he got into the habit of opening up a little bit, and Riza personally was happy for it. “By the way…” he smirked. Oh no… “I decided that when I’ll be Fuhrer, the new female uniform will be miniskirts – just like I always wanted, right? But then, our jackets don’t go well with the miniskirts. So I drew this new uniform that fixes it,” he smiled and showed a sheet of paper with an awry drawn woman (?) in a tight jacket and a miniskirt. Next to the jacket, there was an arrow with the words ‘leather jacket’ on top of it. Riza raised her eyebrows. So yes, why on Earth did she fall in love with him?

“Leather jacket would be quite… original for the military, Sir.”

“Just like I was telling to my psychotherapist when she asked me to explain it,” Roy smiled. “But she didn’t really understand it. Anyway, I also decided that I’ll repeal all fraternization laws,” he finished, sounding hesitant.

Her heart skipped a beat and it must have shown on her face, but she quickly regained control over her emotions.

“Why, Sir? Don’t you have enough girls to date outside the military?”

“There’s only one I want to date, and you know it,” he answered and looked her deep in the eyes. “I know that we can’t do anything now. But one day, we can be together. I promise. If you want to, of course,” he said, and then for a second took her hand in his. He dropped it right away, awkwardly moving in the direction of his suitcase, checking if everything was in place.

“Only on a few conditions, Sir.”

He looked up at her, looking entirely overwhelmed and _happy_. This was the first time she saw him actually happy in a long time.

“First, you’ll share with me more. You’ll tell me more if you’re feeling down or volunteer for another stupidly heroic mission – you’ll tell me all of it because there’s no relationship if one part constantly gets manipulated into something. And you need it yourself because your depression won’t heal overnight.”

He nodded curtly.

“Then, you’ll slack in your job less often, okay? Can you at least not burn any documents that we prepare for you?”

He sulked.

“I was only burning the copies. It’s easy to make the new ones…”

“It’s not, Sir – someone still has to make them. Usually Fuery. So no, you won’t burn any more paperwork or cafeterias, Sir.”

He nodded once again.

“And the final two are that you stop talking about miniskirts and leather jackets as a new uniform,” Roy wanted to say something in response, but she didn’t allow him. “And you don’t get a beard or a moustache.”

“Stop… What?”

“Your stubble when you didn’t want to get shaved in days there was terrible, Sir. I have standards too, you know!”

They were discussing it for a long time, while waiting to leave for the train station. Roy was trying to negotiate the conditions for when he could get a beard or a moustache – and no, Riza didn’t feel that undercover missions as Santa or a fashion trend were good enough reasons for it. Then, all the other guys from the team arrived, bringing by their cheerful stories about Roy’s eight children. The fable lived on its own now, fuelled by their enthusiasm to tease Roy about it.

She smiled. This was like back in their office, with everyone teasing each other, betting, Roy trying to get off yet another of his duties, and Maes trying to show them all photos. This was close to her own personal paradise and more so now when Roy told her about his feelings.

There was a long way to go for all of them. To fulfil their goal and for Roy to battle his depressive thoughts and learn to be more open with his close friends. But it looked like they were all on track to something better.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I finished writing this. This is the first story I’ve ever written, and I’m not a native English speaker – I started learning English only after graduating from school – so I’m super proud of having finished writing so many words in English. And I’m very thankful to everyone who read this. I know that there’re mistakes and awkward sentences and probably incorrect usages of words (like I only recently learned that you say ‘vent anger’ rather than ‘venture anger’), and it’s cool that you read so many words of this. Really, thank you!  
> To be fair, I never expected this fic to be so long. Initially, I had a few ideas – first, about self-sacrifice being quite an unhealthy thing considering how talking to other people and working together is much better at solving anything. In this fic, I tried to show that Roy (albeit did a great thing) didn’t need to sacrifice so much. All he had to do was to talk to someone or not try to manipulate everyone else into not helping him. Then, it could only happen because he was depressed. He was depressed before the mission and severely depressed after it. So the self-sacrifice is the result of the combination of a person who doesn’t open to anyone and his depression.  
> Then, I also wanted to speak about the morality of human weapons. This concept thankfully doesn’t exist in real life, but there’s a lot of human weapons in the fiction. The problem is then that personal decisions – even taken in a very confused state – may have disastrous consequences. And I tried to think about it and work it in the story. Because at the end of the day, being a human weapon is very tragic, regardless of what Marvel and similar stories are trying to show us.  
> Then, I was also interested in exploring Roy Mustang as a character. At this point, you probably see already that I got way too invested in an anime I saw only recently, but whatever. Roy Mustang is a great character. He’s complex. It’s difficult to explain how we empathize him considering what he did in Ishval and his decision with the philosopher’s stone at the end, but we do. Because he cares for other people, tries to atone for his mistakes, and he’s smart and powerful. I imagine him being more book-smart rather than life-smart, considering how he was very naïve when he volunteered for the army and quite naïve even during the series – like when he went inside the Central command and told the General about his suspicions about Fuhrer right away. So I wanted to create a father figure for Mustang – that’s how Rawls came to light and wanted to show many of his arguments coming from books rather than life experience. I imagine these books being something like from first-year Philosophy syllabus, so I researched them in the meantime.  
> And a small note on the characters. First, I wanted more OC-s because I wanted more good characters and main conflicts stemming from misunderstanding and circumstances, rather than someone just being evil. For instance, Robertson is clearly good and brave because he does what’s necessary in a country like Amestris. I’m really sorry about doing it to Robertson and Oliver, by the way. I wanted to create a new character to betray everyone but then I felt like there were way too many OC-s already (and I like those kudos ha ha). Second, I didn’t try to create this fic as an endorsement of religions, even if Rawls is portrayed as good and religious at the same time. Initially, I wanted the worship of fire to exist more for comedic purposes, but then I saw it as a good reason for Roy to start a conversation and included the whole conversation.  
> By the way, alchemic exhaustion and efficiency of alchemy are two concepts I invented mostly for dramatic purposes. There's probably some limit to what alchemists can do in the canon but I still didn't read the manga until the end, so I don't know.  
> I also wanted to show more how an autocratic country creates the conditions necessary for misunderstanding and manipulations. The articles about Roy in the newspapers were clearly bullshit and everyone knew not to trust them, but at the end of the day, they still validated Roy’s depression or Ed’s belief that Roy died heroically.  
> Finally, if you feel depressed – please, talk to someone. Reach out to people, don’t hold it all inside. There’s probably other good advice out there, but I just don’t know more. I only know that talking to other people is important.  
> Again, thank you for reading and leaving feedback. You’ve been wonderful!


End file.
